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GEORGE SAND'S NOVELS

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Copyright, 1893, by
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University Press:
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PREFACE

IT was after the terrible days of June, 1848, that,
troubled and overwhelmed to the bottom of my
soul by the storms from without, I tried to find
again in solitude, if not calm, at least faith. If I
professed to be a philosopher, I might believe or
pretend that belief in ideas brings peace of mind in
presence of the disastrous facts of contemporary his-
tory ; but it is not at all so with me, and I humbly
confess that the certainty of a future ordered by
Providence could not bar the way, in the soul of
an artist, to the grief of passing through a present
darkened and toxn:by-Civil'.War. ..' •"

For men of action, who take, a personal part
in politics, there- is. everywhere,* under all' circum-
stances, a fever of hope or anguish, rage or joy,
the intoxication of triumph, or the wrath of defeat.
But for the poor poet and for the idle woman, who
watch events without having any direct and per-
sonal interest, be the issue of the struggle what it
may, there is a deep horror of the blood spilled on
either side, and a kind of despair at the sight of

5

oor?

FADETTE

the hatred, wrongs, threats, and calumnies which
mount toward heaven like an unclean holocaust in
the train of social convulsions.

At such a moment as this, a genius stormy and
strong as Dante, writes with his tears, his gall, his
nerves, a terrible poem, a drama all full of tor-
ments and of groans. We must be tempered like
that soul of iron and fire, to fix our imagination
upon the horrors of a symbolic hell, when we have
under our eyes the dolorous purgatory of desolation
upon earth. The artist of our times, more feeble
and sensitive, who is but the reflection and the echo
of a generation very like him, feels the imperative
need of looking away, and of diverting his imagina-
tion, by turning toward an ideal of peace, of inno-
cence, and of contemplation. It is his weakness
that makes him do so, but he has no cause to blush
for it, because it is also his duty. In times when
evil comes because men misunderstand and hate one
another, it is the mission of the artist to praise sweet-
ness,, confidence, and friendship, and so to remind
men, hardened or discouraged, that pure morals,
tender sentiments, and primitive justice still exist,
or at least can exisL in this world. Direct allusions

to present ills, the appeal to boiling passions, —

6

PREFACE

there is no road to safety there: a sweet song, the
sound of a rustic pipe, a story to put little chil-
dren to sleep without fear or pain, is better than
the spectacle of real evils deepened and darkened
still more by the colors of fiction.

Preaching unity to men who are cutting one an-
other's throats, is crying in the wilderness. There
are times when souls are so agitated that they are
deaf to every direct appeal. Since those June days
of which present events are the inevitable conse-
quence, the author of the story that you are going
to read has undertaken the task of being amiable
though he should die of chagrin. He has let his
pastorals be laughed at, as he had let everything
else be laughed at, without troubling himself at the
judgments of a certain kind of criticism. He knows
that he has given pleasure to those who love that
strain, and that to give pleasure to them that suffer
from the same ill as he, in knowing the horror of
hate and of revenge, is to do them all the good that
they can receive : very fleeting, a passing relief, it is
true, but more real than a passionate declamation,
and more impressive than a classical demonstration.

George Sand.

Nohant, the twenty-first of December, j8ji.
7

FADETTE

CHAPTER I

FATHER BARBEAU, of Cosse, was certainly
comfortably off, for he was a member of the
municipal board of his township. His two fields
provided for the support of his family and yielded
him profit besides. He cut full cart-loads of hay
in his meadows, and except what came from the
borders of the brook and was somewhat injured by
the rushes, it was known as the best fodder in the
neighborhood.

Father Barbeau's house was roofed with tiles, and
built high on a hillside where the air was good.
It had a fruitful garden, and a vineyard six acres in
extent.

Then, behind his barn, he had a fine orchard,
such as we call an ouche, where plums, cherries,

9

FADETTE

pears, and sorb-apples grew in equal profusion.
Even the nut-trees in his hedge-rows were the
oldest and largest for two leagues around.

Father Barbeau was a cheerful and a good-hu-
mored man, very fond of his family, without
neglecting the interests of his neighbors and
fellow-parishioners.

He had three children already, when Mother
Barbeau, who knew their means were enough for
five, and that her advancing years gave her little
time, determined to present him with two fine boys
at once. They looked so much like each other
that it was almost impossible to distinguish them,
and they were recognized as bessons, — that is to
say, twins exactly alike.

Mother Sagette, who received them in her apron
when they came into the world, did not forget to
make a little cross with her needle on the arm of
the first-born, because, as she used to say, "one
can make a mistake about a bit of ribbon or a neck-
lace, and the birthright may be lost."

" When the child grows stronger," she went on,
"we must mark him with a sign that will never
rub off"; and this they did not fail to do. The
elder was named Sylvain, which soon became Syl-

10

FADETTE

vinet, to distinguish him from his eldest brother,
who had acted as his godfather; and the younger
was called Landry, and kept the name as he had
received it in baptism, because his uncle, who
was his godfather, had always, from his youth up,
been called Landriche.

Father Barbeau was a little astonished, when he
came back from market, to see two tiny heads in
the cradle.

" Oh ! oh ! " cried he, "that cradle is too narrow.
To-morrow morning I must make it larger."

He was something of a carpenter, and though he
had never learned the trade, he had made half his
furniture himself. He showed no further surprise,
and went to look after his wife, who drank a large
glass of hot wine, and felt the better for it.

"You do so much, wife," he said to her, " that
I should take courage from you. Here are two
more children to feed, though we did not need
them at all. That means that I must keep on cul-
tivating our land and raising our cattle. Don't
worry, I shall work ; but don't give me three the
next time, for that would be too many."

Mother Barbeau began to cry, and Father Barbeau
was very sorry. "Come, come," said he, "you

1 1

FADETTE

must not fret, my good wife. I did not say that to
reproach you ; I only meant to thank you. Those
two are fine, well-made children ; there is not a
defect on their bodies, and I am very well pleased."

"Oh, dear me," said his wife; "I know, mas-
ter, very well that you are not finding fault with
me for the children ; but I am worried because I
have heard that nothing is more uncertain and dif-
ficult to bring up than twins. They interfere with
each other, and if one is to be healthy, the other
generally dies."

11 Really," said the father; " is that so? As fai
as I know, these are the first twins that I have ever
seen. They do not come often. But here is Mother
Sagette, who knows and will tell us all about it."
So he called Mother Sagette, who answered :
" Trust me, those twins will get on perfectly
well, and will be just as healthy as other children.
I have been a nurse for fifty years, and have seen
all the children in the country round born, and
live or die ; so it is not the first time that I have
assisted at the birth of twins. In the first place,
they are none the worse for looking alike. Some-
times they have no more resemblance than you and

I, and yet one is strong and the other delicate ; so

12

FADETTE

one lives and the other dies. But look at yours !
Each one is as fine and well made as if he were an
only child. They cannot have done each other any
harm before their birth, and they have come into
the world without too much pain to their mother
or hurt to themselves. They are wonderfully pretty,
and mean to live. So take heart, Mother Barbeau ;
it will be a great pleasure for you to see them grow
up. If they live, you alone, and those who see
them every day, will be able to tell the difference
between them, for I never saw twins so much alike.
You might call them two little partridges hatching
from the same egg. They are so sweet and so
much like each other, that only the mother par-
tridge can distinguish them."

"Good!" exclaimed Father Barbeau, scratching
his head. " But I have heard that twins sometimes
grow so fond of each other, that when they are
separated they can live no longer, and one, at
least, lets himself pine away till he dies of grief."

"That is perfectly true," said Mother Sagette;
"but listen to what an experienced woman is go-
ing to tell you. Do not forget it, for when your
children are old enough to leave you, perhaps I
shall not be in the world to advise you. As soon

'3

FADETTE

as the twins begin to know each other, be careful
not to leave them always together. Take one out
to work, while the other is looking after the house.
When one goes fishing, send the other hunting ;
when one is tending sheep, let the other one take
care of the cows in pasture ; when you give one
wine to drink, give the other a glass of water ; and
so on. Don't scold them or correct them at the
same time. Don't dress them alike : when one has
a hat, let the other have a cap ; and above all,
don't let their blouses be the same blue. In short,
in every way that you can think of, prevent them
from becoming too much alike, and teach them to
learn to do without each other. I am very much
afraid that you will turn a deaf ear to what I am
saying to you ; but if you do, you will be very
sorry for it some day."

Mother Sagette's words were gold, and they be-
lieved her. They promised to do as she said, and
they made her a handsome present before they let
her go. Then, as she had strongly advised that
the twins should not be fed with the same milk,
they set about looking up a nurse at once.

But there was not one to be found in the place.
Mother Barbeau, who had not counted upon two

M

FADETTE

children, and who had nursed all the others her-
self, had taken no precautions beforehand. Father
Barbeau was obliged to go off in search of a nurse
in the neighborhood. While he was gone, the
mother could not allow her children to suffer, and
so she fed both from her own breast.

Our country people do not decide in a hurry,
and no matter how rich they may be, they must
always do a little bargaining. It was known that
the Barbeau family could afford to pay, and peo-
ple thought that as the mother was no longer in
her first youth, she could not nurse two babies
without injury to her health. So all the nurses
whom Father Barbeau could find, asked him eigh-
teen francs a month, — neither more nor less than
they would have asked a bourgeois.

Father Barbeau did not care to give more than
twelve or fifteen francs, thinking that a great deal
for a peasant. He tried everywhere, and haggled
a little, without concluding a bargain. The matter
was not very pressing ; for two such young chil-
dren could not exhaust their mother, and they
were both so healthy, so quiet, and cried so little,
that they made scarcely more disturbance in the
house than a single child. When one slept, the

'5

FADETTE

other slept too. Their father had arranged the
cradle, and when they both cried at once, they
were both rocked and soothed at the same time.

Finally Father Barbeau struck a bargain with a
nurse for fifteen francs, and the only difficulty lay
in the gratuity of a hundred sous, when his wife
said to him :

11 Nonsense, master! I see no reason for spending
a hundred and eighty to two hundred francs a year,
as if we were gentlemen and ladies, and as if I were
too old to nurse my own children. I have more
milk than they need. Our boys are a month old
already, and just see how they thrive ! The nurse
Merlaude, whom you want for one of them, is not
half so strong or healthy as I am; her milk is al-
ready eighteen months old, and will not do for
such a young child. Mother Sagette told us not to
give our twins the same milk, so as to prevent
them from becoming too fond of each other. It is
true she said so, but did she not say too that we
must take the same care of both ; for, after all, twins
are not quite so strong as other children ? I should
rather have ours love each other too much, than
sacrifice one to the other. And then, which should

we put out to nurse? I confess that I should be

16

FADETTE

quite as sorry to part with one as the other. I may
say that I have loved all my children very much;
but, somehow or other, these seem to me the dearest
and prettiest that I have ever carried in my arms.
I have a peculiar love for them that always makes
me afraid of losing them. Please, husband, do not
think of this nurse any more ; we shall do every-
thing else that Mother Sagette recommended.
How can you expect children at the breast to love
each other too much, when they can hardly tell
their hands from their feet when they are weaned?"

" What you say is quite right," answered Father
Barbeau, looking at his wife, who was still fresher
and stronger than most women; " but suppose
that, as the children grow bigger, your health
begins to fail?"

" Do not worry," said Mother Barbeau ; " 1 know
I have as good an appetite as if I were fifteen ; and
besides, in case I feel worn out, I promise not to
hide it from you, and there will always be time
enough to send away one of these poor children."

Father Barbeau gave in, the more easily because
he did not care about any useless expense. Mother
Barbeau nursed her twins without complaint or
injury to her health, and her constitution was so

17

FADETTE

strong that two years after the twins were weaned
she gave birth to a pretty little girl, whom they
named Nanette, and whom she also nursed herself.
But it was a little too much for her, and she would
have found it hard to finish her task if her eldest
daughter, who happened then to have her first
child, had not relieved her from time to time by
nursing her little sister.

Thus the whole family soon grew and flourished
in the sun : the little uncles and the little aunts,
with the little nephews and the little nieces, none
of whom could be accused of being more noisy or
more quiet than the rest.

18

CHAPTER II

THE twins grew apace, with no more ill health
than other children ; and their dispositions
were so good and sweet that they seemed to suffer
less in teething and growing than the rest of the
little family.

They were blond, and remained blond all their
lives. They were very good-looking, with their
great blue eyes, their well-set shoulders, and their
straight and firmly knit bodies. They were taller
and stronger than boys of their age, and all the
people of the country-side who passed through the
town of Cosse stopped to look at them, wondering
at their resemblance to each other ; and everybody
went off saying, " All the same, that is a pretty
pair of boys."

It was for this reason that the twins early became
accustomed to stares and questions, and they learned
not to be shamefaced and foolish as they grew

>9

FADETTE

older. They were at their ease with everybody,
and instead of hiding behind the bushes, as chil-
dren do with us whenever they see a stranger,
they confronted the first who came, although
always very politely, and answered all questions
without hanging their heads or waiting to be asked
twice. At first sight, no one could tell the dif-
ference between them, but thought them as much
alike as two peas. After a few minutes' observation,
however, it became apparent that Landry was a
hairbreadth taller and stronger, that his hair was
a little thicker, his nose somewhat more decided,
and his eye brighter. His forehead, too, was broader,
and his manner more determined, and also a mark
which his brother bore on his right cheek he had
intensified on his left cheek. The people of
the district, therefore, distinguished them easily;
but even they needed a moment for recognition,
and at twilight, or at a little distance, they
were almost always deceived, especially as the
voices of the twins were just alike, and because, as
the boys knew that they might be taken for each
other, they answered to each other's names without
taking the trouble to correct the mistake. Occa-
sionally Father Barbeau himself was confused. As

20

FADETTE

Mother Sagette had prophesied, their mother alone
never mistook them, whether they were in the
dark or at so great a distance that she could just
see them coming or hear their voices.

In fact, one was as good as the other; and if
Landry were a trifle more light-hearted and high-
spirited than his elder brother, Sylvinet was so
affectionate and so quick-witted that it was im-
possible not to like him as well as Landry. For
three months the parents tried to prevent them
from becoming too intimate. Three months in
the country are considered a long time for any-
thing to last in the face of discouragement. But
precautions seemed to be of no use ; and, moreover,
the parish priest said that Mother Sagette was in
her dotage, and that what God had put into the
laws of nature could not be undone by man.
Thus, little by little, every promise was forgotten.
The first time the children left off their frocks to
go to mass in trousers, they were dressed in the
same cloth, because both suits were made from
their mother's petticoat, and the cut was the same,
for the village tailor knew no other.

When they grew older they were observed to
like the same colors, and when their Aunt Rosette

2* 2 1

FADETTE

wished to make each of them a present of a cravat
on New-Year's day, they both chose a cravat of the
same lilac of the peddler who hawked his wares
from door to door, on the back of his Norman
horse. This aunt asked them if it were because
they wanted always to be dressed alike. The twins
did not look so far ahead ; Sylvinet answered that
the cravat was prettier in color and pattern than
all those in the peddler's pack, and Landry im-
mediately declared that all the other cravats were
ugly.

" How do you like the color of my horse?"
asked the peddler, smiling.

" I think it is hideous," cried Landry. " It looks
just like an old magpie."

"As hideous as it can be," said Sylvinet. "It
looks exactly like an ill-plucked magpie."

" You see," said the peddler to the aunt, with a
shrewd look, " those children see things in the
same light. If one takes yellow for red, the other
will as quickly take red for yellow, and you must
not thwart them, because they say that when peo-
ple prevent twins from thinking themselves two
prints from the same plate, they become idiots, and

no longer know what they are talking about."

22

FADETTE

The peddler said this because his lilac cravats
were badly dyed, and he wished to sell two at
once.

All this continued as time went on, and the
twins were dressed so much alike that they were
still more often mistaken for each other ; and either
by childish mischief, or by the force of that law
of nature which the priest thought it impossible to
undo, when one had broken the toe of his sabot,
the other soon made a hole in his own on the cor-
responding foot; when one tore his jacket or his
cap, without a moment's delay the other imitated
the tear so perfectly that one mishap seemed to
have befallen both ; and then our twins began to
laugh and look slyly innocent when they were
asked to explain what had happened.

For good or ill, their love for each other in-
creased continually as they grew older, and as soon
as they were able to think for themselves, they
made up their minds that neither could enjoy him-
self with other children in the other's absence.
Once, when their father tried to keep one of them
all day with him while the other stayed with the
mother, both were so sad, so pale, and so down-
hearted at their work, that they seemed ill. When

23

FADETTE

they met in the evening, they went along the

paths together, holding hands, and did not want

to go into the house, so delighted were they to be

together again, and because they were a little sulky

with their parents for having pained them. This

attempt was not repeated, for it must be admitted

that father and mother, as well as uncles and

aunts and brothers and sisters, loved the twins to

the point of weakness. They were proud of them

on account of the many compliments paid them,

and because they could certainly not be called ugly

or stupid or naughty. From time to time Father

Barbeau worried a little over what this habit of

being always together might result in when they

should be men, and remembering the words of

Mother Sagette, he tried to tease them so as to

make them jealous of each other. For example, if

they got into mischief, he pulled Sylvinet's ears,

saying to Landry: " This time I forgive you, for

you are generally the best behaved." But seeing

that his brother escaped, Sylvinet was consoled for

the tingling of his ears, and Landry cried as if it

were he who had received the punishment. He

tried also giving something which both wished for

to one alone ; but if it were anything good to eat,

24

FADETTE

they divided it immediately, or if it were a play-
thing or a tool, they would use it together, or give
it back and forth without distinction of ownership.
If anybody complimented one on his conduct with-
out seeming to do justice to the other, the latter
was proud and happy to see his twin petted and
encouraged, and began to flatter and caress him
himself. In short, it was labor lost to try to sepa-
rate them in mind or body ; and as it is hard to vex
the children we love, even for their good, things
were soon allowed to go as it pleased Heaven ; or
else this slight teasing became a game which did
not impose upon the children. They were very
sly, and sometimes in order to be left alone they
pretended to quarrel and fight ; but it was only in
fun, and while rolling about, they were careful
not to do each other any harm. If some idle fel-
low were astonished to see them fighting, they
would hide to laugh at him, and soon they could
be heard humming and chattering like two black-
birds on a branch.

In spite of this great resemblance and this great
affection, God, who has made no two things ex-
actly alike in heaven or earth, decreed that they
should have a very different fate; and so it was
2?

FADETTE

seen that they were two creatures separate in the
mind of God and distinct in their own natures.

This was seen only when it came to the test,
and this happened after they had made their first
communion together. Father Barbeau's family
was increasing, thanks to his two eldest daughters,
who had given birth to many fine children. His
eldest son, a fine handsome fellow, was in the
army ; his sons-in-law were good workmen, but
labor was sometimes scarce. We have had in our
country a series of bad years, resulting from se-
vere storms as well as from business troubles,
which emptied the pockets of the country people
of more crowns than they brought back to them.
So Father Barbeau was not rich enough to keep
all his family at home, and he had to consider the
question of putting his twins out to work. Father
Caillaud, of the Priche, offered to let one drive his
oxen, as he had a large farm to cultivate, and his
boys were too old or too young for that kind of
work. Mother Barbeau was much disturbed and
grieved when her husband broached the subject to
her. It was just as if she had never foreseen that
such a misfortune could happen to her twins, and

yet she had worried over the possibility of it ever

26

FADETTE

since they were born ; but, as she was very sub-
missive to her husband, she had nothing to say,
On his side, too, the father felt anxious, and ar-
ranged everything long beforehand. At first the
twins cried, and spent three days walking together
through the woods and meadows; never seen, ex-
cept at meal-time. They would not say a word
to their parents ; and when asked if they had made
up their minds to consent, they did not answer, but
talked a great deal when they were alone together.
The first day they could do nothing but weep
and walk arm in arm, as if afraid of being torn
apart by force. Father Barbeau, however, would
not have done this. He had a peasant's wisdom,
which consists half of patience and half of confi-
dence in what time can do. The next day, when
the twins saw that their parents did not compel
them, but left them to come to their senses, they
were more afraid of their father's will than they
would have been if he had threatened to punish
them.

"We must submit to it," said Landry. "And
we must decide which of us is to go ; for they have
left the choice to us, and Father Caillaud said that

he could not take us both."

27

FADETTE

" What difference does it make to me whether
I go or stay," said Sylvinet, "since we must be
separated? Going elsewhere to live is nothing to
me ; if I were going with you, I should soon get
used to doing without my home."

11 That is easy enough to say," answered Lan-
dry, "and yet the one who stays at home will
have more to comfort and less to vex him than the
one who will never see his twin, or his father, or
his mother, or his garden, or his cattle, or any-
thing that used to give him pleasure."

Landry spoke firmly enough, but Sylvinet burst
into tears again, for he had not so much resolution
as his brother, and the idea of losing everything
at once gave him so much pain that he could not
stop crying.

Landry wept, too, but not so much, and not in
the same way ; for he was thinking of taking the
greater evil for himself, and he wanted to see how
much his brother could bear, so as to spare him the
rest. He knew very well that Sylvinet was more
afraid than he of going to a strange place, and of
living in a family other than his own.

" See," said he to his brother, " if we can make

up our minds to live apart, it is best for me to go

28

FADETTE

away. You know that I am a little stronger than
you, and when we are ill, as generally happens to
us both at the same time, the fever takes a firmer
hold on you than on me. They said that perhaps
we shall die if we part. I do not think I shall die;
but I cannot answer for you, and that is why I
should like you to have our mother to cheer you
and care for you. So, if they love one of us more
than the other, which is not likely, I believe it is
you whom they care for most, and I know that you
are the most affectionate and clinging. Stay, then,
and let me go. We shall not be far apart. Father
Caillaud's land is next to ours, and we shall see
each other every day. I like to work, and that will
give me something to think of, and as I am a better
runner than you, I can come more quickly to see
you as soon as my day's work is over. As you will
not have much to do, you can walk over to see
me at work. I shall be much less anxious about
you than if you were away and I at home. So I
ask you to stay."

2y

CHAPTER III

SYLVINET would not listen to this ; although
he had a more tender affection than Landry
for his father, his mother, and his little sister Nan-
ette, he shrank from leaving the burden to his
dear twin.

When they had discussed the matter at length,
they drew straws, and the lot fell on Landry. Syl-
vinet was not satisfied with the test, and wished
to try heads or tails with a penny. Three times
heads came up for him, and it was always Landry's
lot to go.

11 You see that it is the will of fate," said Lan-
dry, "and you know that fate must not be con-
tradicted."

The third day, Sylvinet still cried, but Landry
scarcely cried any more. The first idea of going
away had pained him perhaps more than his
brother, because he was more conscious of the de-
mands made on his own courage, and because he

*o

FADETTE

could not forget the impossibility of resisting his
parents ; but by dint of thinking over his trouble,
he mastered it sooner; and he had argued a great
deal with himself, whereas Sylvinet's extreme dis-
tress robbed him of the courage necessary for the
consideration of such a matter. Landry had decided
to leave before Sylvinet had made up his mind to
let him go.

Landry, too, had a little more self-esteem than
his brother. They had been told so often that
neither could be more than half a man if they did
not accustom themselves to live apart, that Landry,
who began to feel the pride of his fourteen years,
wished to show that he was no longer a child. He
had always been the first to persuade and influence
his brother, from the first time they had looked
for bird's-nests in the tree-tops to that very day.
So this time, too, he succeeded in calming him, and
that evening, when they went into the house, he told
his father that his brother and he had agreed to do
their duty, that they had drawn lots, and that it had
fallen to him to drive the great oxen of the Priche.

Although they were now big and strong, Father
Barbeau took his twins on his knee and spoke to
them thus :

3»

FADETTE

" My children, I know by your submission that
you have reached the age of discretion, and I am
well content. Remember that when children please
their father and mother, they also please almighty
God in heaven, and one day or other he will reward
them for it. I do not wish to know which of you
yielded first. But God knows, and will bless the
one who proposed it as well as the other who
consented. "

Thereupon he took his twins to their mother to
receive her praises ; but Mother Barbeau found it so
hard to keep back her tears that she could say
nothing, and only kissed them.

Father Barbeau, who was no fool, knew very
well which of the twins was the bolder, and which
was the most attached to his home. He did not
wish to let Sylvinet's ardor cool, for he saw that
Landry had fully decided to go, and that nothing
but his brother's grief could make him irresolute.
So he woke up Landry before daylight, taking
great care not to rouse Sylvinet, who slept by his
side.

u Come, my boy," said he, in a low voice,
"you must go to the Priche before your mother
sees you ; for you know how sad she is, and we

32

FADETTE

must spare her a farewell. I am going to take you
to your new master, and shall carry your bundle."

" Shall I not say good-by to my brother?" asked
Landry. " He will be angry with me if I go with-
out letting him know."

" If your brother wakes up and sees you going
away, he will cry and wake your mother, and your
mother will suffer still more on account of your
sorrow. Come, Landry, you are a brave boy, and
cannot wish to make your mother ill. Do your
whole duty, my child; go without making the
slightest noise. Not later than this evening, I shall
bring you your brother, and, as to-morrow is Sun-
day, you shall come with the dawn to see your
mother."

Landry obeyed bravely, and went out at the
door of the house without looking behind. Mother
Barbeau was not so sound asleep that she could not
hear all that her husband said to Landry. The poor
woman, feeling that her husband was right, did
not stir, and merely pulled the curtain slightly
aside to see Landry go out. Her heart was so full
that she flung herself toward the foot of the bed to
kiss him, but she stopped before the bed of the
twins, where Sylvinet was still fast asleep. The
3 33

FADETTE

poor boy had cried so much for three days and
almost three nights that he was exhausted by fa-
tigue, and was even a little feverish, for he tossed
back and forth on his pillow, sighing deeply, and
moaning in his sleep.

Then Mother Barbeau could not help thinking,
as she looked at the twin that was left, that she
would have suffered more in parting with him. It
is true that he was the more sensitive of the two,
either because his character was less strong, or be-
cause God has written in the law of nature that
C when two people are joined in love or friendship,
one must always give his heart more perfectly than
the other\ Father Barbeau, who thought more of
hard worlc and high spirit than he did of caresses
and kind attentions, cared a little the most for Lan-
dry. But the mother cared a little the most for
Sylvinet, who was the most attractive and winning.

Then she began to look at the poor boy, who
was so pale and altered, and thought what a great
pity it would be to put him out to service so
young ; that her Landry had more stuff in him to
bear trouble, and that, besides, his love for his twin
and his mother did not overpower him so far as to
endanger his health.

34

FADETTE

11 He is a child who has a great idea of his duty,"
thought she ; " yet his heart must be a little hard,
or he could never have gone off like that, without
a murmur, without turning his head, and without
shedding a single tear. He would not have had
the strength to go two steps without falling on
his knees to ask God for courage, and he would
have come to my bedside, while I was pretending
to sleep, even if it were only to look at me and kiss
the edge of the curtain. My Landry is a real boy;
he cares only for life and bustle, for work and va-
riety. But this one has the heart of a girl; he is
so gentle and sweet that I cannot help loving him
as the apple of my eye."

Mother Barbeau thus reflected as she went back
to her bed to lie awake, while Father Barbeau was
taking Landry across the fields and meadows toward
the Priche. When they passed the brow of a lit-
tle hill, and could no longer see the farm-buildings
of Cosse, Landry stopped and turned. His heart
was too full for him to go a step farther, and he
sat down among the ferns. His father pretended
not to notice him, and walked straight on. After
a moment, he called him gently, and said :

"See how light it is growing, Landry. We
35

FADETTE

must make haste if we mean to reach the Priche
before sunrise."

Landry got up, and, as he had sworn not to cry
before his father, he held back the big round tears
which came into his eyes. He made a motion as
if he had dropped his knife, and he reached his
destination without showing his grief, although it
was ierious enough.

36

CHAPTER IV

WHEN Father Caillaud saw that the stronger
and more industrious of the twins was
given to him, he was delighted to receive him. He
knew very well that the decision could not have
been made without pain, and as he was a kind
man, a good neighbor, and a great friend of
Father Barbeau, he did his best to please and en-
courage the young boy. He ordered soup and
wine to be given him, to raise his spirits; for it
was plain to see that he was sorrowful. Then he
led him off to yoke the oxen, and showed him how
to do it. In fact, Landry was no novice at work
of this kind ; for his father had a fine pair of oxen,
which he had often harnessed and driven very well.
As soon as the child saw Father Caillaud's great
oxen, — which were the best kept, the best fed, and
of the strongest breed in the country, — his pride

was gratified to have such fine cattle at the end of
3* 37

FADHTTE

his goad. Then he was glad to show that he was
neither awkward nor cowardly, and that he had
nothing new to learn. Landry's father was not
slow to enlarge on his son's worth, and when the
time came to go to the fields, all Father Caillaud's
children, boys and girls, big and little, came to
kiss the twin, and the youngest girl knotted a
branch of flowers to his hat with ribbons, because
it was his first day of service and a kind of gala-
day for the family that received him. Before leav-
ing him, his father gave him some advice in the
presence of his new master, and told him to please
Father Caillaud in everything, and to care for the
cattle as though they were his own. Landry prom-
ised to do his best, and went off to his plow.

He kept up a good face all day, worked we'l,
and came back with a hearty appetite ; for he had
never toiled so hard before, and(a little fatigue is a
sovereign remedy for sorrow. )

It was worse, however, v/ith poor Sylvinet, in
the Twinnery ; for you must know that the house
and property of Father Barbeau, situated in the
township of Cosse, had been called by this name
since the birth of the two children, and because
soon after a servant of the house had given birth

FADETTE

to twins, both girls, who did not live. Now, as
peasants are great lovers of jests and nicknames,
the house and land had acquired the name of the
"Twinnery," and wherever Sylvinet and Landry
went, the children would call out, "There go the
twins of the Twinnery ! "

On that day there was sadness at Father Bar-
beau's Twinnery. As soon as Sylvinet woke up
and did not see his brother at his side, he guessed
the truth ; but he could not believe than Landry
could go off like that without saying good-by, and
he was angry in the midst of his grief.

"What have I done to him?" said he to his
mother; "and how can I have offended him? I
have always done as he thought best, and when he
advised me not to cry before you, darling mother,
I kept from crying, although my heart was bursting.
He promised me not to go away without giving me
some more words of encouragement, and without
breakfasting with me at the end of the hemp-field,
where we used to go to talk and play together. I
wanted to do up his bundle for him and give him
my knife, which is better than his. Then you did
up his bundle last night without telling me any-
thing about it, mother, and you knew that he
39

FADETTE

wanted to go away without saying good-by to
me?"

11 I did as your father wished," answered Mother
Barbeau.

And she said all she could think of to console
him. He would listen to nothing; and it was only
when he saw that she too was crying, that he began
to kiss her, to ask her pardon for having added to
her sorrow, and to promise her to stay with her
to make amends. As soon as she had left him and
had gone to attend to the poultry-yard and the
washing, he ran off toward the Priche without a
thought of where he was going, following his
instinct as a pigeon follows his mate, taking no
heed of his way. He would have gone all the
distance to the Priche had he not met his father
coming back, who said, as he took him by the
hand to lead him home :

"We shall go this evening, but you must not
interrupt your brother while he is at work, for
that would not please his master ; besides, your
mother is in trouble at home, and I count upon you
to cheer her."

40

CHAPTER V

SYLVINET came back to hang on his mother's
petticoats like a little child, and did not leave
her side all day long. He spoke constantly of
Landry, and was unable to keep from thinking of
him as he returned to the nooks and corners which
they had frequented together. In the evening he
went to the Priche with his father, who wished to
go with him. Sylvinet was wild to embrace his
brother, and he could not eat his supper because
of his haste to set off. He expected Landry to run
to meet him, and he kept thinking that he saw
him approaching. But, much as Landry wanted
to go, he did not stir. He dreaded the laughter of
the young people of the Priche, who considered
his love for his twin as a kind of disease, so that
Sylvinet found him at table eating and drinking
as if he had been with the Caillauds all his life.
As soon as Landry saw Sylvinet come in, however,
4»

FADETTE

his heart jumped with joy, and if he had not re-
strained himself, he would have upset table and
bench in his eagerness to greet his brother ; but he
did not dare to do so, for his master's family were
looking at him curiously, amused to see in his love
a novelty and a natural phenomenon, as the village
schoolmaster used to say.

So, when Sylvinet sprang to him and cried as he
kissed him, and hugged him as a bird in its nest
presses close to its mate for warmth, Landry was
vexed because of the others, though he could not
help being pleased on his own account; he wished
to appear more rational than his brother, and made
him signs from time to time to be calm, to Syl-
vinet's astonishment and grief. While Father Bar-
beau was talking and drinking a glass or two with
Father Caillaud, the twins went out together, as
Landry wished to show his affection to his brother
when no one was looking. The other boys, how-
ever, watched them from a distance, and even little
Solange, Father Caillaud's youngest daughter, who
was quite as mischievous and curious as a linnet,
followed them with her little steps as far as the
hazel copse. She laughed and looked abashed

whenever they noticed her, because she kept ex-

42

FADETTE

pecting something extraordinary, though she hardly
knew what there could be surprising in the love
of two brothers.

Pained as Sylvinet was by the coolness of his
brother's welcome, he did not think of reproaching
him for it, so happy was he to be with him. The
next day, Landry felt himself his own master, be-
cause Father Caillaud had excused him from all his
duties, and he set off so early in the morning that
he expected to find his brother in bed. Although
Sylvinet was the greater sleeper of the two, he
woke at the moment Landry was passing the
orchard hedge, and ran out barefoot, as if conscious
of his twin's approach. For Landry, it was a day
of perfect happiness. He was delighted to see his
family and home again, since he knew that he
should not come back every day, and that he must
look upon this pleasure as a kind of reward. Syl-
vinet forgot his troubles till the middle of the day.
At breakfast, he knew that he should dine with
his brother ; but when dinner was over, he re-
membered that supper would be their last meal
together, and he began to be disturbed and uneasy.
He spoiled and petted his brother to his heart's
content, giving him the best of his food, the crust
43

FADETTE

of his bread, and the heart of his lettuce ; and then
he worried over Landry's clothes and his shoes, as
if the boy had a long journey to go, and were
much to be pitied, never guessing that he himself
was the more unfortunate of the two, because he
had the most to bear.

44

CHAPTER VI

THE week passed in this way: Sylvinet going
to see Landry every day, and Landry stop-
ping with him a minute or two whenever he came
toward the Twinnery. Landry soon became used
to his part, but it was different with Sylvinet, who
counted the days and hours like a soul in torment.
Nobody in the world but Landry could make his
brother listen to reason, and even his mother
turned to him to induce Sylvinet to be more rea-
sonable ; for the poor child's trouble increased from
day to day. He did not care to play any longer,
and only worked when he was bid ; he still took
his little sister out walking, but he scarcely spoke,
and never thought of amusing her, and only
watched to prevent her falling and hurting herself.
The moment no one was looking, he went off all
alone and hid where he could not be found. He
scrambled into all the ditches, hedges, and gullies
4S

FADETTE

where he used to play and talk with Landry ; he sat
down on the roots where they had sat together,
and put his feet in all the little brooks where they
had waded about like a pair of ducks; he was
happy whenever he found any twigs which Landry
had whittled with his pruning-knife, or any peb-
bles which he had used as quoits or as bits of flint.
He gathered them together and hid them in a hol-
low tree or under a brush-heap, so that he might
take them out and look them over from time to
time, as if they were things of value. He kept
thinking and racking his brains for all the little
memories of his past happiness. Such things
would have meant nothing to another, but to him
they were everything. He took no care for the
future, for he could not bear to think of a series
of days like those he was enduring. He thought
only of the past, and pined away in a continual
reverie.

Sometimes he fancied he saw and heard his twin,
and then he talked to himself as though he were
answering him. Or he went to sleep wherever he
happened to be, and dreamt of him ; and when he
woke, he cried when he found himself alone, not

sparing his tears nor trying to hold them back, for

46

FADETTE

he hoped that fatigue would eventually lessen and
put an end to his grief.

Once, when he had wandered through the mea-
dows as far as the coppice, he found in the rivulet
which issues from the wood after a heavy rain, but
which was now almost dried up, one of those lit-
tle mills our children make, and which are so
neatly constructed that they turn in the current,
and sometimes last a very long time, until other
children break them or the floods carry them away.
Sylvinet found this one whole and uninjured. It
had been there more than two months, and as the
place was unfrequented, nobody had seen or hurt
it. Sylvinet recognized the mill as the work of
his twin, and remembered that when he had
made it, they had expected to come back to see it;
but they had not thought of it again, and since
then they had made many more mills in other
places.

Sylvinet was delighted to find it again. He car-
ried it a little lower down where the brook was
still running, and as he watched it turn, he called
to mind Landry's pleasure when he set it in mo-
tion for the first time. So he left it, hoping to
come back the next Sunday with Landry to show
47

FADETTE

him how well their mill had lasted because of its
solid construction.

But he could not help coming back alone the
very next morning, and then he found the borders
of the brook disturbed and trodden down by a
herd of oxen which had been put to pasture that
morning in the grove, and which had come there
to drink. He went forward a step or two, and
found that the cattle had trampled on his mill,
and had broken it up, so that there was but little
of it to be found. Then his heart was heavy, and
he imagined that some mischance must have be-
fallen his twin on that same day, and ran as far as
the Priche to make sure that there was nothing the
matter. As Sylvinet had noticed that Landry did
not like him to come in the daytime, lest his
master should be provoked by his waste of time,
he contented himself with merely watching his
brother at work from a distance, and did not show
himself. He would have been ashamed to confess
why he had come, and he went home without
saying a word, and without speaking of it to any-
body until long afterward.

He became pale, slept ill, and ate hardly at all,
and his mother became very anxious, and did not

FADETTE

know how to cheer him. She tried to take him
with her to market, or sent him with his father or
his uncles to the cattle-fairs ; but nothing inter-
ested him or amused him, and Father Barbeau,
without saying anything to the boy, tried to
persuade Father Caillaud to take both twins into
his service. Father Caillaud answered with a good
sense that appealed to his friend:

"Suppose that 1 should take both for a time, it
could not be for long, because where only one
servant is needed, people like us do not want two.
At the end of the year, in any case, you would be
obliged to hire one out somewhere else. Do you
not see, then, that if your Sylvinet were in a place
where he should be forced to work, he would not
brood so much, but would do like the other, who
has borne his part so bravely ? Sooner or later you
must come to that. Perhaps you will not be able
to place him as you like, and if these children are
destined to live still farther apart, and only to see
each other once a week, or once a month, you
had better begin now, to prevent their becoming
inseparable. Be more prudent, my friend, and do
not pay too much attention to the caprice of a

child, who has been already too much petted and
4 49

FADETTE

spoiled by your wife and your other children. The
worst is over, and if you do not yield, you may
be sure that he will come round."

Father Barbeau approved, and understood that
the more Sylvinet saw of his twin, the more he
would want to see him. He therefore decided to
find a place for him by St. John's day, so that he
should see Landry less and less, and learn in the
end to love like other people, and not to allow
himself to be carried away by an affection so ex-
treme as to result in fever and weakness.

He could not speak of it yet to Mother Barbeau,
for at the first word she shed floods of tears. She
insisted that Sylvinet might die, and Father Bar-
beau was greatly perplexed. Landry, by the advice
of his father, his master, and his mother, did not
fail to use his infl lence with his poor twin ; Syl-
vinet offered no resistance, promised all that was
asked of him, and yet he could not control himself.
There was something else in his trouble which he
would not tell, because he could not bring himself
to speak of it. A terrible jealousy on account of
Landry had sprung up deep down in his heart.
He was happy — happier than he had ever been —

to see that everybody esteemed his brother, and that

50

FADETTE

his new master treated him as affectionately as if
he were a child of the house. Still, if in one way
it delighted him, in another he was pained and
troubled to see Landry respond too strongly, as he
thought, to these new ties. It hurt his feelings
when the slightest and gentlest word from Father
Caillaud sent Landry running off against his will,
leaving father, mother, and brother ; more afraid
of failing in duty than in friendship, and more
prompt to obey than Sylvinet could ever have been
when he might have stayed a few moments longer
with a brother so much beloved.

Then the poor child was pained as he had never
been pained before, for he thought that the love
was all on his side, and that his affection was ill
returned ; that this state of things must have
existed from the beginning, without his knowing
it ; or that for some time the love of his twin for
him had cooled, because he had met elsewhere
more congenial or more agreeable people.

5J

CHAPTER VII

LANDRY never dreamed of his brother's jeal-
_j ousy, for it had never been in his charac-
ter to be jealous himself. When Sylvinet came to
see him at the Priche, Landry amused him by
taking him to see the great oxen, the sleek cows,
the well-ordered sheepfold, and the abundant crops
of Father Caillaud's farm ; for Landry felt the value
of all these things, not because he was envious,
but because he had a genuine taste for the cul-
tivation of the earth, for the herding of cattle, and
for the very best disposition of everything on the
farm. He took pleasure in seeing that the colt he
drove to pasture was fat, clean, and glossy, and
he could not bear the least imperfection in his
work, or that any of the good gifts of God, capable
of living and increasing, should be forsaken, neg-
lected, and almost despised. Sylvinet looked at all
this with indifference, and was surprised that things

52

FADETTE

for which he did not care were of so much interest
to his brother. He took offense at everything, and
said to Landry :

" You are very much in love with these great
oxen, but you do not think any longer of our
bullocks which are so full of spirit and yet so
tame and gentle that they were more willing to be
yoked by you than by our father. You have not
even asked me for news of our cow that gives such
good milk, and that looks at me so sadly, poor
creature, when I feed her, just as if she understood
how lonely I am, and as if she wished to ask me
where my twin is."

" It is true that she is a good cow," said Landry ;
"but just look at these! When they are milked,
you will say that you have never seen so much
milk at once in your life."

"That may be," answered Sylvinet, " but I bet
that the milk and cream they give are not so rich
as Brunette's milk and cream, for the pasturage at
the Twinnery is better than that over here."

" The deuce ! " said Landry. "Do you not suppose

that my father would be glad to exchange, if he

could have Father Caillaud's great hay-fields instead

of his rush-field by the water ? "
4* 53

FADETTE

" Nonsense ! " answered Sylvinet, shrugging his
shoulders; "there are trees in the rush-field finer
than any you have, and as to the hay, though
there is not much of it, it is very choice, and when
they bring it home, it leaves a trail of perfume all
along the way. "

Thus they disputed over their little nothings, for
Landry knew that nothing is better than what one
actually possesses, and Sylvinet did not think of
his own belongings more than those of other
people when he underrated those of the Priche ;
but beneath all these light words, one of the chil-
dren was happy to work and live, no matter where
or how, and the other was not able to understand
that his brother could have a moment's ease and
comfort apart from him.

When Landry took him into his master's garden,
and happened to stop talking in order to cut off
a dead branch from a grafted tree, or to pull up a
weed which interfered with the vegetables, it vexed
Sylvinet to have him always intent on keeping
order, instead of being on the watch like himself
for the reast breath or syllable from his brother.
He let nothing of this appear, because he was
ashamed that his feelings should be so easily

54

FADETTE

hurt ; but, as he was going away, he would often
say :

"Well, you have had enough of me to-day,
perhaps too much ; it may be that you are bored
by seeing me here."

Landry did not understand such speeches, but
they pained him, and in his turn he reproached
his brother, who neither could nor would explain
himself.

If the poor child were jealous of the least thing
which interested Landry, he was still more so of
the people for whom Landry showed affection.
He could not bear to have Landry friendly and good-
natured with the other boys at the Priche, and
when he saw him taking care of little Solange,
petting or amusing her, he accused him of forgetting
his little sister Nanette, who was to his thinking a
hundred times more attractive and sweet-tempered
than that horrid little girl.

( No one is just when jealousy gnaws at his heart )
When Landry came to the Twinnery, Sylvinet
thought him too much engrossed by his little
sister, and told him reproachfully that he paid
attention only to her, and that toward him he
showed but weariness and indifference.

55

FADETTE

Finally his affection became so exacting and his
temper so melancholy, that little by little Landry
began to suffer from it, and to take small pleasure
in seeing him so often. He was annoyed by per-
petual reproaches for having accepted his lot as he
had done, and it was plain that Sylvinet would be
less unhappy could he make his brother as un-
happy as himself. Landry understood, and tried
to make his brother understand, thatflove, by its
very strength, can sometimes become an evilA
Sylvinet would not hear of it, and even thought
his brother very unkind for speaking so; and thus
it happened that he sulked from time to time, and
Spent whole weeks away from the Priche, although
he was dying to go there, keeping at home, and
putting forth all his pride where it was most out
of place.

It came to pass that by reason of disputes and
quarrels, Sylvinet constantly misconstrued Landry's
wisest and most sincere assurances, and so poor
Sylvinet grew so pained that sometimes he thought
he hated this brother whom he loved so tenderly.
He even left the house one Sunday morning, to
avoid spending the day with Landry, who had not
once missed coming.

56

FADETTE

This childish humor grieved Landry very much.
He loved pleasure and frolics, for he was grow-
ing stronger and more independent. He was first
in every game, more agile in body and with a
keener eye than his companions. It was really
a sacrifice on his brother's behalf to leave the jolly
boys of the Priche every Sunday and spend the
day at the Twinnery with Sylvinet, who would
not hear of playing in the public square or of going
out anywhere to walk. Sylvinet, who had re-
mained much more of a child in body and mind
than his brother, and whose sole idea was to love
him and to be loved by him in return, wished to
take him alone to their haunts, as he called them :
to the nooks and hiding-places where they used to
play at games now no longer suited to their years ;
perhaps it was to make little wicker wheelbarrows,
or mills, or snares to catch birds; or it might
be houses of pebbles, or fields the size of a
pocket-handkerchief, which children pretend to
cultivate in various ways, making little imitations
of everything they see done by the ploughmen,
sowers, harrowers, weeders, and reapers, thus learn-
ing in an hour all the good the earth gives and re-
ceives in the course of the year.

57

FADETTE

Such amusements as these were no longer to
Landry's taste, now that he practised these things,
or helped to practise them, on a large scale, and
preferred driving a large cart with six oxen to tying
a little wagon made of branches to his dog's tail.
He would rather have tried his skill at skittles
with the big boys of the neighborhood, now that
he had become expert in lifting the great ball and
rolling it with perfect accuracy at thirty paces.
When Sylvinet consented to go too, instead of
playing, he would stay in a corner without saying
a word, determined to be bored and tormented if
Landry seemed to take too much pleasure and zest
in the game.

In addition, Landry had learned to dance at the
Priche ; and although he had acquired this taste
late, because Sylvinet had never had it, he already
danced as well as those who take to it as soon as
they can walk. People considered him a good
dancer at the bourree; and though as yet it gave
him no particular pleasure to kiss the girls, as it is
customary to do in every figure, still he was glad to
kiss them, because it looked as if he were grown
up, and he even wished them to make a little fuss
about it, as they do with men. They did not, as

58

FADETTE

yet, and the biggest even laughed and threw their
arms round his neck, much to his annoyance.

Sylvinet had seen him dance once, and that had
been the cause of one of his worst tantrums. He
had felt so angry to see his brother kiss one of
Father Caillaud's daughters, that he had cried with
jealousy, and thought it quite indecent and out-
landish.

Thus every time Landry sacrificed his pleasure
to his brother's love for him, he did not pass a
very amusing Sunday ; yet he had never failed to
go, believing that Sylvinet would be grateful, and
not grudging a tiresome day, if it were to please
his brother.

When he found that his brother, who had sought
a quarrel with him during the week, had gone
away from home in order to avoid a reconciliation
with him, he was grieved in his turn, and for the
first time since he had left his family he shed big
tears, and went off and hid; for he was ashamed of
showing his sorrow to his parents, and afraid of
increasing theirs.

If anybody had the right to be jealous, it was

Landry far more than Sylvinet. Their mother loved

Sylvinet the best, and Father Barbeau, too, although

59

FADETTE

he secretly preferred Landry, showed more tender-
ness and consideration for Sylvinet. As the poor
child was less strong and sensible, he was the more
spoiled, and people were more careful not to hurt
his feelings. His lot was the easier because he was
with his family, and because his brother's sacrifice
saved him from exile and sorrow.

For the first time our Landry argued in this way,
and decided that his twin was entirely unjust toward
him. Until now his warm heart had prevented
him from blaming Sylvinet, and rather than find
fault with him he had accused himself of supera-
bundant health, of too much zeal at work and play,
and of a want of the sweet words and delicate at-
tentions his brother knew. This time, however,
he could detect in himself no offense against their
friendship ; for that very day, in order to come
home, he had given up a delightful expedition after
crabs, which the boys of the Priche had been plan-
ning all the week, and which they had assured him
he would enjoy very much if he would consent to
go with them. Thus he had resisted a great temp-
tation, and at his age that is a great deal. After he
had cried a long time, he stopped to listen to some-
body who was also crying at no great distance, and

60

FADETTE

who was talking to herself as our peasant women
do when they are in great distress. Landry knew
immediately that it was his mother, and ran to her.

"O my God!" said she between her sobs.
" Must I suffer so much for this child's sake? He
will surely kill me."

"Is it I, mother, who make you suffer?" cried
Landry, throwing his arms about her neck. " If
it is I, punish me, but do not cry. I do not know
how I can have grieved you, but I beg you to for-
give me all the same."

Then his mother felt that Landry's heart was
not so hard as she had often supposed. She pressed
him closely to her, and without knowing exactly
what she was saying, because of her trouble, she
told him that it was Sylvinet, and not he, who
grieved her ; that although she had sometimes
thought unjustly of him, she would now make
amends for it ; but that she feared Sylvinet was los-
ing his mind, and that she was very anxious, as he
had gone off before daylight without eating any-
thing. The sun was going down, and he had not
come home. He had been seen at noon near the
river, and Mother Barbeau began to think that he
had thrown himself in to end his life.

61

CHAPTER VIII

OTH E R BARBEAU'S idea that Sylvinet might
have wished to die rushed into Landry's
mind as a fly into a spider's web, and he dashed
off to look for his brother. Fears crowded upon
him as he ran, and he said to himself: "Perhaps
my mother was right when she used to call me
hard-hearted ; but surely Sylvinet is so, too, now
that he gives so much anxiety to our poor mother
and to me."

He ran this way and that without finding him ;
he called without receiving an answer, and asked
everybody for news, but in vain. At last he came
to the rush-field, where he turned in, knowing that
in that direction lay one of Sylvinet's favorite
haunts. It was a large hollow which the river had
worn away by tearing up two or three alder-trees,
which still lay, root uppermost, across the stream.
Father Barbeau had never cared to carry them off.

62

FADETTE

He had left them because, owing to the manner in
which they had fallen, they still kept back the
earth, which was held in place by the strong vines
interlaced among the roots ; and this was very for-
tunate, because every winter the water made havoc
in his rush-field, and every year ate away a piece
of his meadow.

Landry then approached the hollow, for so the
brothers called that part of the rush-field. He did
not take time to go as far as the corner, where
there was a little stairway which they had once
built of bits of turf supported by stones and large
roots which protruded from the ground and struck
out fresh shoots. He jumped down as far as he
could in his haste to reach the bottom of the hol-
low, for the bushes and grass along the bank of the
stream were so much taller than he, that even if
his brother had been there he could not have seen
him from above.

He reached the spot, full of emotion, remember-
ing how his mother had told him that Sylvinet was
in danger of putting an end to himself. He went
to and fro among the bushes, beating the grass,
calling to Sylvinet, and whistling to the dog, which
had doubtless followed him, as all day no one at
6?

FADETTE

the house had seen any more of him than of his
young master.

But call and shout as he would, Landry could
find no one else in the hollow. As he was a boy
accustomed to do everything thoroughly and to
think of every expedient, he examined both banks to
see whether he could not find a footprint or any
worn spot in the earth which had not been there
before. The search was anxious and troublesome
as well, for Landry had not seen the place for about
a month ; and although he knew it as he did his
right hand, it was impossible that there should not
be some little change.

The entire right bank was covered with turf,
and, in like manner, at the bottom of the hollow,
the rushes and the coarse grass had grown so thick-
ly that there was no room to look for a footprint.
After a long search Landry succeeded in finding in
a remote corner the trail of the dog, and even one
spot where the grass was trampled down, as if
Finot or some other dog of the same size had curled
himself up there.

This was a clew, and he examined the river's
bank a second time. He thought he saw a fresh
break, as if somebody had made it with his foot,

64

FADETTE
I

by jumping or sliding ; and, although he could not

be sure, because it might just as well have been

the work of the water-rats, which scratch, dig, and

gnaw in such places, he was nevertheless so much

troubled that his legs gave way under him, and he

sank on his knees as if to pray.

He did not move for some time, not having the
strength or courage to go and tell anybody the
cause of his anguish, watching the river through
his tears, as if he wished to call it to account for
his brother's fate.

And all the while the river ran quietly on, rip-
pling over the branches which overhung the banks
and trailed in the water, pursuing its way through
the fields like one who mocks and laughs in his
sleeve.

Poor Landry allowed his forebodings to take pos-
session of him so completely that he lost his head,
and from a reality so slight that it might mean no-
thing, he created a misfortune which drove him to
despair.

4 ' This wicked river, which will not answer me,"

he thought, " and which would let me cry a year

without giving me back my brother, is deepest in

this very place; and since it overflowed the meadow,

5 65

FADETTE

ft is so full of rubbish that no one who falls in can
ever get out again. O my God ! can it be that
my poor twin is there, underneath the water, lying
scarcely two feet off where I could neither see nor
find him, among the branches and reeds, even if I
should jump in myself?"

Thereupon he began to weep for his brother,
and to reproach him ; for never in his life had he
been so unhappy.

At last it occurred to him to consult a widow,
by name Mother Fadet, who lived at the end of
the rush-field, close by the path which goes down
to the ford. This woman, although she had neither
land nor goods, except her little house and garden,
was never in want; for she had great knowledge
concerning all the evils and sorrows of the world,
and from every side people came to consult her.
She made cures by a bidden art — that is to say, she
healed wounds, bruises, and other injuries by
means of her secret. She imposed a little upon
others, for she would cure you of diseases which
you had never had, such as the dislocation of the
stomach or the rupture of the abdominal wall ; and
for my part, I have never quite believed in such
accidents, anymore than I can give entire credence

66

FADETTE

to her reputed power of transferring the milk of
a good cow into a bad one, however old and ill-fed.

But she had remedies that were really good
against chills, and plasters excellent in case of cuts
and burns, and sure potions to check fever; and
certain it is that she earned her money deservedly,
and that she cured a great many sick people whom
the doctors would have killed had they been al-
lowed to physic them. At least she said so herself,
and those she had saved liked better to believe her
than to venture a doubt on the subject.

Since, in the country, one cannot be thought
wise without some reputation for sorcery, many
people believed that Mother Fadet knew much
more than she cared to confess, and they attributed
to her the power of finding lost objects, and lost
persons as well; in short, because she had much
wit and wisdom to help people out of trouble in
things which are possible, they inferred that she
could not fail them in things which are impossible.

Children listen eagerly to all sorts of stories, and
Landry had heard at the Priche, where everybody
is notoriously more credulous and simple than at
Cosse, that Mother Fadet could discover the body
of a drowned person by means of a certain grain
67

FADETTE

which she threw into the water with an incan-
tation. The grain remained on the surface and
floated along the water, and beneath the spot where
it stopped the poor body was sure to be found.
There are many who think that holy bread has
the same virtue, and some of it is kept at every
mill for that purpose. But Landry had none ;
Mother Fadet lived hard by the rush-field, and
grief scarcely allows time for reflection.

So he set off running to Mother Fadet's dwelling,
and began to tell her his trouble, imploring her to
go with him as far as the hollow, and make use
of her art to restore his brother, alive or dead.

Mother Fadet did not like to see her reputation
in advance of her art, and, reluctant to give her
advice for nothing, laughed at him and sent him
away crossly enough ; for she was angry that in
former times Mother Sagette had been employed
as nurse in her place when the children were born
at the Twinnery.

Landry, who was a little proud by nature, at any
other time would have been irritated, and would
have answered angrily ; but he was so overcome
that he returned to the hollow without a word,
determined to jump into the water, although he had

68

FADETTE

not as yet learned to dive or swim. As he walked
along, hanging his head and with his eyes fixed
on the ground, he felt a light tap on his shoulder,
and, turning round, he saw Mother Fadet's grand-
daughter, who was known in the country-side as
little Fadette, quite as much because she was a
little witch herself as because of her family name.
Everybody knows that what we call the fadet or
the farfadet, and what other people call the will-o'-
the-wisp, is a very kindly sprite, though sometimes
a little mischievous. The fairies, too, which no one
believes in nowadays, in our part of the country
are called fades. Whether they meant a little fairy
or a girl-sprite, everybody who saw Fadette thought
her the will-o'-the-wisp, so small was she, so thin,
so dishevelled, and so bold. She was a very talk-
ative and sarcastic child, lively as a butterfly, in-
quisitive as a robin-redbreast, and brown as a
cricket.

When I compare little Fadette to a cricket, it is
to let you know that she was not beautiful ; for
this poor little chirper of the fields is yet more
ugly than its brother of the hearth. However, if
you remember how you played with it as a child
and made it chirrup angrily in your sabot, you must
s* 69

FADETTE

know that its little face is not without interest,
and that it is more apt to amuse than to vex you ;
so the children of Cosse, who are no more stu-
pid than other children, and who are quite as
quick to notice resemblances and make comparisons,
called little Fadette the "Cricket" when they wished
to irritate her, and also as a term of endearment;
for, although they feared her somewhat on account
of her capacity for mischief, they did not dislike
her, as she told them all kinds of stories, and con-
stantly taught them new games that she had had
the wit to invent.

Among all these names and nicknames, I have
almost forgotten the one which she had received in
baptism, and which perhaps later you may be desirous
of knowing, — this was Francoise, and so her grand-
mother, who never liked to change names, called
her Fanchon.

As there was a quarrel of long standing between
the people of the Twinnery and Mother Fadet, the
twins never talked much to little Fadette, and had
even a kind of aversion to her, never liking to play
with her or her little brother, whom they called
the " Grasshopper." This child was still thinner
and more mischievous than his sister, always at her

70

FADETTE

side, storming when she ran off without waiting
for him, throwing stones at her whenever she
teased him, flying into greater passions than his
size could warrant, and angering her in spite of
herself; for she was of a happy disposition, and
inclined to laugh at everything. There were
such stories rife concerning Mother Fadet that
some people, and especially those of Father Bar-
beau's household, thought the "Cricket" and the
" Grasshopper" would bring them ill-luck if they
came to know them. This did not prevent the
two children from speaking to the Barbeau family ;
for they were not shy, and little Fadette never
failed to greet the "twins of the Twinnery" with all
sorts of fun and nonsense whenever she saw them
coming in the distance.

7»

CHAPTER IX

SO poor Landry, who was a little annoyed by
the tap on his shoulder, turned round and
saw little Fadette, and Jeanet the Grasshopper not
far behind her, limping along ; for he was ill-made
and bow-legged from his birth.

At first Landry would pay no attention to her,
but kept right on, for he was in no laughing humor ;
but Fadette said to him, tapping his other shoulder :

"Wolf, wolf! You naughty twin, only half a
boy ; you have lost your other half."

Thereupon Landry, who was no more in the
mood to be insulted than to be teased, turned on
little Fadette and struck out a blow with his fist,
which would have hurt her severely had she not
dodged it ; for he was nearly fifteen, and no weak-
ling, and she, though nearly fourteen, scarcely
looked twelve, and was so slight and fragile that it
seemed as if a touch must break her to pieces.

12

FADETTE

But she was too alert and too much on her guard
to wait for his blows, and what she wanted in the
strength of her hands she made up in agility and
dexterity. She jumped aside just in time, so that
he came near bruising his arm and head against a
big tree which stood between them.

" You bad Cricket," said the poor boy in a rage,
u I think you have no heart, if you want to vex
anybody in as much trouble as I. You have been
trying for a long time to make me angry by calling
me half a boy. Now I should like to break you
and your ugly little Grasshopper of a brother into
four pieces, to see if both of you together would
make the quarter of anything decent."

"Come, come, fine twin of the Twinnery, lord
of theRushery by the brook's boundary," answered
little Fadette with a sneer, "you are very foolish
to pick a quarrel with me, just when I was going
to give you news of your twin, and tell you where
to find him."

11 That is quite a different thing," said Landry,
calming down very quickly; " if you know, Fa-
dette, tell me, and I shall be thankful."

" Fadette does not mean to tell you this time any
more than the Cricket did," replied the little girl.

73

FADETTE

ti

You spoke rudely to me, and would have struck
me, if you were not so awkward arid clumsy. Go
off and look for your mad brother by yourself, since
you know so much about finding him."

"I am very foolish to listen to you, bad girl,"
said Landry, turning his back and beginning to
walk off. " You don't know any better than I do
where my brother is, and you are just as ignorant
about it as your grandmother, who is an old liar
and a good-for-nothing."

Fadette, holding by the hand little Grasshopper,
who had succeeded in catching up with her and
was clinging to her old and dusty petticoat, began
to follow Landry, with sneering assurances that he
could never find his twin without her aid. So
Landry, who could not get rid of her, fancied that
her grandmother or she herself, by some piece of
sorcery or familiarity with the river-sprite, might
prevent him from finding Sylvinet, and he decided
to set off for home by the upper edge of the rush-
field.

Little Fadette followed him as far as the stile
of the meadow, and when he had crossed it, she
perched herself on the top like a magpie and called
out to him :

74

FADETTE

"Good-by, you pretty, heartless boy; you go
off leaving your brother behind you. You may
keep your supper waiting for him a long time, but
you will not see him to-day or to-morrow ; for he
will not move from where he is any more than a
lump of stone, and there is a storm coming up.
There will be still more trees in the river to-night,
and the river will carry Sylvinet away, so far, so
very far, that you will never find him again."

These mischievous words, to which Landry lis-
tened almost against his will, made the cold sweat
start from his body. He did not absolutely believe
them, but still the Fadet family was so generally
supposed to be in league with the devil that he
could not be sure that what she said was quite
false.

"Fanchon," said Landry, stopping, " tell me,
yes or no, will you leave me alone or say whether
you really know anything about my brother ? "

"What will you give me if I find him for you
before it begins to rain ? " said Fadette, standing
erect on the top of the stile and waving her arms
as if she were about to fly.

Landry did not know what he had to give her,
and he began to think that she was trying to get

75

FADETTE

money out of him. But the whistling of the wind
through the trees, and the distant crash of thunder,
wrought him into an agony of terror. It is not
that he was afraid of storms, but this storm had
come up suddenly and in a way that seemed su-
pernatural. Perhaps, in his anxiety, Landry had
not seen it approaching from behind the trees
which skirted the river, especially as he had been
for two hours in the hollow beside the Val, and
could not see the sky till he had climbed to the
high ground. The truth was, he caught sight
of the storm only at the moment when little Fa-
dette announced it; and, as she spoke, the wind
blew out her petticoat, her unkempt black locks
straggled out from under the cap which she always
wore untidily cocked over one ear, and bristled up
like horsehair; a great gust of wind had just car-
ried off the Grasshopper's cap, and it was only with
great difficulty that Landry kept his from going too.

In the last few minutes the sky had grown very
black, and Fadette, standing on the stile, looked
twice her actual height ; in short, we must confess
that Landry was afraid.

"Fanchon," said he, " I will do as you wish
if you will only give me back my brother. Per-

76

FADETTE

haps you have seen him, and perhaps you know
where he is. Be a good girl. I do not see what
pleasure you can find in my anxiety. Show me
that you can be kinder than your looks and words
warrant."

" Why should I be kind to you," answered she,
tl when you treat me as if I were a bad girl, though
1 have never done you any harm ? Why should I
be good to twins who are as proud as two pea-
cocks, and who have never shown me the slightest
attention ? "

"Come, Fadette," said Landry, "you want me
to promise you something ; tell me quickly what
you want, and I will give it to you. Do you want
tny new knife?"

"Show it to me," cried Fadette, jumping down
beside him like a frog.

When she saw the knife, — a good one that Lan-
dry's grandfather had bought for ten pennies at
the last fair, — she was tempted for a moment ; but
soon she thought her price too low, and she de-
manded instead his little white hen, no bigger than
a pigeon, and feathered to the tips of its claws.

" I cannot promise you my white hen, because it
belongs to my mother," answered Landry; "but I

FADETTE

promise to ask her to give it to you, and I am sure
that she will not refuse, because she will be so glad
to see Sylvinet again that she will think no reward
too good for you."

"Oh, ho!" exclaimed little Fadette ; "and if I
take a fancy to your black-nosed kid, will Mother
Barbeau give that to me too?"

"Good heavens! how long it takes you to de-
cide, Fanchon ! You need say only one word ; if
my brother is in danger and you take me to him
directly, I am very sure that there is not one of all
our hens and chickens, goats and kids, at home,
which my mother and father will not give you
for thanks."

"Well, we shall see, Landry," said little Fadette,
holding out her small thin hand for the boy to shake
in token of their agreement; and he did so with
some trembling, for at that moment her eyes glowed
so like coals of fire that she looked like the hob-
goblin in person. " I shall not tell you now what
I want of you, and perhaps 1 do not know it yet
myself; but remember what you have just promised;
and if you fail, I shall let everybody know that there
is no faith in your word. 1 say good-by to you now ;
and do not forget that I shall ask nothing of you un-

78

FADETTE

til the day when I shall determine to go after you
to demand something which shall be at my disposal,
and which you must give without delay or regret."

" Good, Fadette, 1 promise ; it is a bargain," said
Landry, shaking her hand.

"Well," said she, with an air of pride and sat-
isfaction; "go back to the river's bank, follow it
along until you hear a bleating, and where you see
a little black lamb, there you will see your brother.
If everything does not happen as I tell you, I let
you off your promise."

Thereupon the Cricket, taking the Grasshopper
under her arm without paying any attention to his
reluctance, though he wriggled like an eel, jumped
off into the bushes; and Landry neither saw nor
heard them any more than if he had been dreaming.
He lost no time in wondering whether little Fadette
had been making fun of him. He ran without taking
breath to the end of the rush-field, and keeping
beside it, he continued till he reached the hollow.
There he was about to pass on without stopping,
as he had already examined the spot, and was sure
that Sylvinet was not there ; but at that moment
he heard the bleating of a lamb.

" O my God ! " thought he, "that girl was right.

79

FADETTE

<
I hear the lamb ; my brother is there, but I cannot

tell whether he is alive or dead."

He jumped down into the hollow, and forced his
way among the bushes. Sylvinet was not there ;
but on following the stream for ten paces, listening
to the lamb's bleating, Landry saw his brother seated
on the other bank of the river, holding in his blouse
a little lamb, which was quite black — to tell the
truth — from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail.

As Sylvinet was very much alive, and neither
injured nor soiled in person or dress, Landry was
so glad that he began to thank God in his heart,
without a thought of asking pardon for resorting
to the devil's art to attain this happiness. Just as
he was about to call Sylvinet, who did not as yet
see him, and apparently did not hear him, on ac-
count of the noise the water made by rushing rapidly
over the pebbles in that spot, he stopped to look
at him ; for he was astonished to find him exactly
as little Fadette had predicted, — as still as any
stone, in the midst of the trees which the wind
was blowing about furiously.

Everybody knows how dangerous it is to stay too
close to the Val in a high wind. All the banks are
undermined, and every heavy storm uproots some

80

FADETTE

•

of the alders, which always have short roots, and
may fall upon you without warning unless they are
very big and old. But Sylvinet, though he was as
wise as most people, did not appear to be aware of
the danger. He thought of it no more than if he
were under the shelter of a comfortable barn. Tired
out by tramping all day and wandering aimlessly
about, although by good luck he had not drowned
himself in the river, it was easy to see that he was
drowned in his sorrow and vexation so deep that
he lay like a log, his eyes fixed on the stream, his
face pale as a water-lily, his mouth half open like
a little fish gaping at the sun, his hair tangled by
the wind, and not even paying attention to the lit-
tle lamb, which he had found straying through the
meadows and had taken up in pity. He had in-
deed put it into his blouse to carry home, but on
his way he had forgotten to ask to whom the lost
lamb belonged. He kept it on his knees, and let
it lie there, unconscious of its bleating, although the
little creature cried despairingly, and looked about
with its great bright eyes, astonished not to be heard
by one of its kind. It could not see its meadow,
nor its mother, nor its fold, in this shady, grassy
place beside this great and terrifying rush of water.
6 81

CHAPTER X

F Landry had not been separated from Sylvi-
net by the river, which is nowhere in its
course more than four or five yards broad, but
which in some places is as deep as it is wide, he
would certainly have fallen on his brother's neck
without a moment's hesitation. But as Sylvinet
did not even see him, he had time to think how
he should wake him from his reverie and persuade
him to go home. Should poor Sylvinet be un-
willing to consent to this, he might easily run
away, while Landry could not follow him quickly
enough for want of a ford or a foot-bridge.

After some reflection, Landry fell to considering
how his father, a very shrewd and prudent man,
would behave under similar circumstances; and,
luckily, he came to the conclusion that Father
Barbeau would set to work very quietly, as if no-
thing unusual had occurred, so that Sylvinet should

82

FADETTE

not real ize the anxiety he had caused, nor feel too great
repentance, nor be disposed to try the same thing
again the next time he should happen to be offended.

So he began to whistle as if to make blackbirds
sing in answer, like the shepherds when they
go through the bushes at nightfall. This made
Sylvinet raise his head, and when he saw his
brother he was ashamed, and rose quickly, think-
ing he had not been observed. Then for the first
time Landry appeared to see him, and called to
him without raising his voice very much, as in
that spot the noise of the river was not loud
enough to prevent conversation.

"O Sylvinet, are you there? I waited for you
all this morning, and when I found that you had
gone out for such a long time, I walked over in
this direction while I was waiting for supper,
thinking that I should find you at home then; but
now that you are here, we will go back together.
Let us follow the river, you on that bank, and I on
this, until we meet at the ford of the Roulettes. '»
That was the ford which was right opposite Mo-
ther Fadet's house.

"Let us go," said Sylvinet, picking up his
lamb, which had not yet learned to know him,

83

FADETTE

and was reluctant to follow ; and they walked
along the river without daring to look at each
other, fearing to show how sorry they were for
quarreling, and how glad they were to be to-
gether again. From time to time as they pur-
sued their way, in order to appear unconscious of
his brother's vexation, Landry addressed a few
words to him. He asked him first where he had
found the little black lamb, and Sylvinet would
not tell him, because he did not care to acknow-
ledge that he had been very far away, and that he
did not even know the names of the places where
he had wandered. Then Landry said, observing
his embarrassment :

" You may tell me all about that later, for the
wind is high, and it is not safe to stay under the
trees along the river ; but fortunately the rain is
beginning to fall, and the wind will soon die
away."

At the same time he said to himself, " It is
really true that the Cricket was right when she told
me that I should find him before the rain began.
Surely that girl knows more than we do!"

He did not consider that he had wasted a full
quarter of an hour in vainly entreating Mother

84

FADETTE

Fadet to listen to his prayers, and that little Fa-
dette, of whom he had not caught sight till he left
the house, might very well have seen Sylvinet
during that conversation. At length the idea oc-
curred to him ; but how could she know so well
the cause of his trouble when she greeted him, since
she had not been present when he was talking
with the old woman? This time he did not re-
member that coming from the rush-field he had
asked news of his brother from several people, and
that somebody might have spoken of it before
little Fadette, or that possibly the little girl might
have listened to the end of his conversation with
her grandmother, hiding herself, as was her wont,
in order to satisfy her curiosity.

On his side, poor Sylvinet was thinking how to
explain his bad conduct toward his brother and his
mother, for he had not expected such a ruse from
Landry, and he did not know what story to tell,
as he had never lied in his life, and had never kept
anything from his twin.

He was ill at ease when he crossed the ford, not
having been able to think of an excuse.

No sooner had his brother reached the other bank
than Landry flung his arms about him with more
6* 85

FADETTE

tenderness than he cared to display, or than was
usual with him ; but he refrained from questioning
him, for he saw that Sylvinet had nothing to say;
and he brought him home, talking of all manner of
things other than what they had most at heart. As
they passed in front of Mother Fadet's house, he
looked carefully about for little Fadette ; for he wished
to thank her. But the door was shut, and there was
no sound to be heard except the cries of the Grass-
hopper, who was bawling because his grandmother
had whipped him — as she did every day, whether
he deserved it or not.

Sylvinet was sorry to hear the young scapegrace
cry, and said to his brother :

" There are always screams or blows to be heard
in that odious house. I know the Grasshopper is as
horrid and fractious as he can be ; and I would not
give two pennies for the Cricket. Those poor chil-
dren have neither father nor mother, and have to
depend on an old witch who is always in some
mischief or other, and who does not give them
anything."

"That is not the way we were brought up," an-
rwered Landry. " We never had any beatings from
our father or mother, and even when they scolded

86

FADETTE

us for our childish mischief, they did it so gently
and quietly that the neighbors could not hear it.
There are some people, like us, who are very happy
and do not know it ; and yet little Fadette, who is
the most unlucky and the most ill-treated child in the
world, is always laughing, and never complains."

Sylvinet understood the reproach, and was sorry
for what he had done. He had repented often that
day, and twenty times he had been on the point of
going home; but shame had held him back. Now
his breast heaved, and he wept silently ; but his
brother took his hand, and said :

u It is going to pour, Sylvinet ; let us race home."

So they began to run, and Landry tried to amuse
Sylvinet, who forced a smile to please him.

Just as they were going into the house, Sylvinet
wanted to hide in the barn in order to escape a
scolding from his father. But Father Barbeau did
not take life as seriously as his wife, and contented
himself with laughing at him ; and Mother Barbeau,
who had learned a wise lesson from her husband,
tried to hide the anxiety she had felt. It was only
while she was making up a good fire to dry the
twins, and was giving them their supper, that
Sylvinet saw she had been crying, and from time
87

FADETTE

to time looked at him sadly and uneasily. If he
had been alone with her, he would have asked
her pardon, and would have kissed away her
grief; but his father was not fond of such cajo-
leries, and Sylvinet, overcome by fatigue, was forced
to go to bed immediately after supper, without a
word of explanation. He had eaten nothing all day,
and as soon as he had swallowed his supper — of
which he was greatly in need — he felt as if drunk,
and was obliged to allow himself to be undressed
and put to bed by his brother, who stayed with
him, sitting on the side of his bed holding his
hand in his.

When Sylvinet was sound asleep, Landry said
good-night to his parents, without noticing that his
mother kissed him more tenderly than ever before.
He always knew that she could not love him as she
did his brother ; but he was not jealous, as he was
persuaded that he was less amiable, and that he
received his due portion. He submitted to this,
as much out of consideration for his mother as out
of love for his brother, who needed petting and con-
solation more than he.

Next morning Sylvinet ran to his mother's bed-
side before she was up, and opening his heart to her,

FADETTE

confessed his sorrow and his shame. He told her
how, for some time, he had been most unhappy, not
so much on account of his separation from Landry,
as because he fancied that Landry had ceased to care
for him. When his mother asked him why he did
his brother such injustice, he could not explain ; for
it was like a disease which he could not escape.
His mother understood him better than she was will-
ing to acknowledge, because a woman's heart is an
easy prey to such torments, and she herself had often
suffered when she saw how calm Landry was in his
resolution and courage.

This time she recognized that jealousy is wrong,
even in those affections which God most commends,
and she was very careful not to encourage it in Syl-
vinet. She called his attention especially to the pain
he had caused his brother, and to that brother's great
forbearance in not complaining or showing offense.
Sylvinet acknowledged it, too, and agreed that his
brother was better than he. He made a promise
and formed a resolution to cure himself, and he was
sincere in his desire.

Despite himself — though he did his best to look
happy and contented, though his mother dried his
tears and found soothing answers to all his com-

89

FADETTE

plaints, and though he did his best to behave nat-
urally and fairly toward his brother — there still re-
mained a leaven of bitterness in his heart. He could
not help saying to himself: "My brother is more
Christian and right-minded than I ; my dear mother
says so, and it is the truth ; but if he loved me as
much as I love him, he never could have done as
he has."

And it came into his mind how quiet and almost
indifferent Landry appeared when he found him
on the river's bank. He remembered how he had
heard him whistling for blackbirds in his search,
at the very moment when he himself was contem-
plating a death in the river. If he had not left
home with this idea, before evening came he had
thought of it more than once, because he believed
that his brother would never forgive him for sulk-
ing and running away from home the first time in
his life.

" Had he offended me in this way," thought he,
11 1 should never forget it. I am very glad that he
has forgiven me, but still I could not help thinking
that it would be impossible for him to forgive me
so easily."

Then the poor child sighed as he struggled with
himself, and struggled in spite of his sighs.

90

FADETTE

However, as^God always rewards and helps us
according as we try to please him,\Sylvinet became
more reasonable ; for the rest of the year he neither
sulked nor quarreled with his brother — in short, he
loved him more calmly ; and he grew strong, and
recovered his health, which had suffered through
his distress of mind. His father gave him much to
do, as he observed that the less time he had for
meditation, the happier he was. Still, work at
home is never so hard as work for hire, and Lan-
dry, who never spared himself, gained more that
year in strength and stature than his twin. The
small differences between them, which had always
been apparent, became intensified, and passed from
their souls into their faces. When they had completed
their fifteenth year, Landry grew into a fine-look-
ing fellow, while Sylvinet was still a pretty lad,
more slender and less manly than his brother.
They were no longer mistaken for each other, and
though they always looked like brothers, no one
at first sight thought them twins. Landry, who
was called the younger, as he was born an hour
after Sylvinet, seemed to strangers the elder by a
year or more. [This increased the love of Father
Barbeau, who, like the true peasant he was, esteemed
muscle and stature before everything. ',

9. ^

CHAPTER XI

FOR some time after Landry's adventure with
little Fadette, the boy felt worried about the
promise he had made. At the moment when she
had released him from his anxiety, he was willing
to pledge all the best his father and mother owned
at the Twinnery ; but when he saw that Father
Barbeau had not taken Sylvinet's pettishness seri-
ously, and that he had shown no uneasiness, he
feared lest his father should shut the door in little
Fadette's face when she should come to demand her
reward, sneering at her boasted art, and at the mag-
nificent promises which Landry had made.

This fear made Landry thoroughly ashamed, and
now that his trouble was past, he thought he had
been very foolish to see any witchcraft in what had
happened. He was not sure that little Fadette had
made fun of him, but he felt there might be a doubt
on the subject, and he could find no good reasons to

92

FADETTE

satisfy his father that he had acted wisely in enter-
ing upon an engagement which involved such heavy
consequences ; on the other hand, he felt it impos-
sible to break such an engagement, for he had
pledged his faith, and he had done it in honor and
conscience.

To his great astonishment, neither the next day
after the adventure, nor that month, nor that sea-
son, did he hear anything of little Fadette at the
Twinnery or at the Priche. She neither came to
Father Caillaud's farm to ask to speak to Landry,
nor to Father Barbeau's to claim anything, and when
Landry caught sight of her far off across the fields,
she never approached him, and paid no attention to
him. This was unusual, for she was in the habit
of running after everybody to stare at them out of
curiosity, to laugh, joke, and banter with those who
were in good humor, or to rail and scoff at those
who were not.

As Mother Fadet's house is midway between the
Priche and the Cosse, it was impossible that one
day or other Landry should not find himself in the
path face to face with little Fadette ; and since the
path is narrow, Landry could not well avoid giving
her a word of greeting in passing.

95

FADETTE

One evening, as little Fadette was bringing home
her geese, the Grasshopper as usual at her heels,
and Landry, who had been to the meadow after the
mares, was driving them quietly home to the
Priche, the two met in the little path which leads
down from the Cross of the Bossons to the ford of
the Roulettes, and which is sunk so deep between
two embankments that there were no means of es-
cape. Landry blushed, afraid of being called upon
to fulfil his word; and not wishing to encourage
little Fadette, the moment he saw her he jumped
upon one of the mares, and kicked her with his
sabots to make her trot ; but as all the mares
had hobbles on their feet, the mare which he be-
strode could go no faster. When Landry saw little
Fadette near at hand, he dared not look at her, and
turned, pretending to see whether his fillies were
following. When he looked ahead again, he found
that Fadette had already passed him without a word ;
he did not even know whether she had glanced at
him, or had tried to bid him good-evening with a
look or smile. He saw only Jeanet the Grasshop-
per, who, following his malicious and disagreeable
disposition, had picked up a stone to throw at the
mare's legs. Landry felt a desire to give him a cut

94

FADETTE

with the whip, but he dreaded lest he should have
to stop for an explanation with the sister. So he
pretended not to notice him, and went on without
looking behind him.

It was always about the same when Landry met
little Fadette. Little by little he took courage to
look her in the face ; for as he grew older and wiser
he did not think so much of such a slight matter.
When he grew bold enough to watch her calmly,
ready to hear anything she might have to say, he
was surprised to see that the girl purposely turned
her head away, as though she were as much afraid
of him as he of her. This emboldened him, and
as he was of a just disposition, he asked himself
if he had not done amiss in never thanking her
for the comfort she had given him, whether she
had succeeded by art or by chance. He resolved
to speak to her the next time he saw her, and when
that moment came he advanced at least ten steps
toward her to say " How do you do? " and to be-
gin a conversation with her.

As he approached, however, little Fadette looked

very proud and almost angry ; and when she finally

decided to meet his gaze, she did it so disdainfully

that he lost countenance and dared not address her.

95

FADETTE

It was the last time that year that Landry saw
her near at hand, for, from that day on, little Fadette,
led by some whim or other, avoided him success-
fully, and whenever she saw him in the distance,
she would turn aside into some field, so as not to
meet him. Landry thought her angry on account
of his ingratitude ; but his reluctance was so great
that he took no step toward a reconciliation. Fa-
dette was not like other children. She was natu-
rally too little prone to take offense, and her sharp
tongue was so ready with the last sarcastic word
that she liked to provoke jeers and derision. No
one had ever seen her sulky, and people even re-
proached her with a want of that pride which every
girl should have when she is fifteen years old and
begins to feel her own importance. She was a
little tomboy, and often tried to tease and torment
Sylvinet till his patience was exhausted, when
she caught him unawares dreaming, as was still
his wont. When she met him she always fol-
lowed him for a part of the way, laughing at him
for being a twin, and torturing his feelings by say-
ing that Landry did not care for him, and only made
light of his misery. So poor Sylvinet, who believed
more firmly than Landry in her witchcraft, was as-

96

FADETTE

tonished that she should guess his thoughts, and
detested her heartily. He despised both her and
her family, and as she avoided Landry, so he avoided
the hateful Cricket ; for he thought that sooner or
later she must follow the example of her mother,
who had led a bad life, and in the end had left her
husband to follow the camp. Shortly after the birth
of her little boy, she had gone off as a vivandiere,
and had never been heard of since. The husband
had died of mortification, and so old Mother Fadet
was obliged to assume the charge of the two chil-
dren, of whom she took little care; for she was so
aged and niggardly that she was quite unfit to look
after them and bring them up properly.

For all these reasons, though Landry was not so
proud as Sylvinet, he felt disgust for little Fadette,
and sorry that he had ever had anything to do with
her, and took great care not to let anybody know
of it. He even kept it from his twin, as he was not
willing to acknowledge to him how much uneasi-
ness he had suffered on his account. Sylvinet, on
his side, was silent in regard to little Fadette's
malice toward him, ashamed to confess that she
had divined his jealousy.

But time went on. At the age of our twins
7 97

FADETTE

weeks are like months, and months like years, in
the changes they bring to body and mind. Landry
soon forgot his adventure, and after a little anxiety
over the recollection of Fadette, he thought no
more of it than if it had been a dream.

Landry had been about ten months at the Priche,
and St. John's day, the anniversary of his engage-
ment with Father Caillaud, was near. That good
man was so much pleased with him that he had
decided to increase his wages rather than let him
go ; and Landry asked for nothing better than to
remain in the neighborhood of his family, and to
renew his term at the Priche, where he found the
people very congenial. Besides, he felt that he was
becoming attached to a niece of Father Caillaud's,
Madelon by name, a fine specimen of a girl. She
was a year older than he, and still treated him a
little like a child ; though less and less as the days
went on. At the beginning of the year she had
made fun of his embarrassment when he kissed her
in games or dances, but at the end she blushed in-
stead of tea^mg_JijTnL^nd would no longer stay
alon* with him in the barn or in the hay-loft.

Madelon was not poor, and a marriage might very
well in time have been arranged between them.

98

FADETTE

Both families were very respectable and esteemed
throughout the country-side. After some time, Fa-
ther Caillaud, who observed that these two children
desired and yet dreaded each other's companion-
ship, said to Father Barbeau that they would make
a fine couple, and that he saw no harm in letting
their friendship grow as time went on.

So, a week before St. John's day, it was settled
that Landry should remain at the Priche, and that
Sylvinet, who had come to his senses, should stay
at home; for Father Barbeau had fallen ill with a
fever, and found the boy very useful in working
the farm. Sylvinet had been much in dread of
being sent away to a distance, and this fear had
turned to good account, for he tried more and more
to overcome his excessive fondness for Landry, or
at least to make it less apparent. Peace and con-
tentment returned to the Twinnery, although the
twins saw each other only once or twice a week.
The feast of St. John was a happy day for them ;
they went to town together to see the crowd of
servants waiting to be hired out for service in town
or country, and the festival which followed in the
great square. Landry danced more than once with
the pretty Madelon, and Sylvinet tried to please
99

FADETTE

him by dancing too. He did not acquit himself
very well ; but Madelon was particularly kind to
him, and when opposite to him she took him by the
hand to teach him the step. Sylvinet, happy to
be in his brother's company, made up his mind
to learn to dance well, so that he could share a
pleasure which up to that time he had grudged
Landry.

He was not very jealous of Madelon, because Lan-
dry was still reserved in her presence. Besides,
Madelon petted and made much of Sylvinet. She
was unembarrassed with him, and a careless ob-
server would have thought him her favorite. Landry
might have been jealous, had it not been foreign
to his nature ; and perhaps, in spite of his great
simplicity, something told him that Madelon only
behaved thus to please him, and to find more fre-
quent opportunities of being in his company.

Everything went well for about three months,
until the fejst of St. Andoche, the patron saint of
the town of Cosse, whose day comes toward the
last of September.

That day was always a glorious holiday for the
twins, because it was celebrated with dances and
games of all kinds under the great walnut-trees of

ioo

FADETTE

the village ; but this year it brought them new and
unlooked-for troubles.

As Father Caillaud had given permission to Lan-
dry to spend the night before the feast at the
Twinnery, so that he might take part in the early
festivities next day, Landry started before supper,
rejoicing in the prospect of surprising his brother,
who did not expect him before morning. It was
the season when the days begin to shorten and the
nights come on quickly. Landry was never afraid
of anything in full daylight; but it would not have
been natural if at his age and in his part of the
country he had liked to be alone on the roads after
dark — above all, in autumn, which is the season
when witches and sprites love to carouse, because
of the fogs, which help to hide their pranks and
mischief. Landry, who was accustomed to go alone
at all hours to drive his oxen out or back, was not
particularly anxious that evening ; but he walked
quickly and sang aloud, as peasants do when the
nights are dark ; for it is known that a man's song
startles and scares away evil beasts and evil beings.

When he reached the ford of the Roulettes (so
called because of the quantity of round pebbles at
its bottom), he turned up the legs of his trousers,

7* IOI

FADETTE

for he knew that the water might come above his
ankles, and he was very careful not to walk straight
before him, because the ford crosses the river
obliquely, and there might be bad holes to right
or left. Landry knew the ford so well that he
could not make a mistake. Besides, he could see
from where he was through the trees, which were
more than half stripped of their leaves, the little
light which came from Mother Fadet's house, and
by looking at this light and directing his steps
toward it, he was sure there was no chance of
making a misstep.

It was so dark under the trees, however, that
Landry sounded the ford with his stick before
stepping in. He was surprised to find the water
deeper than usual, especially as he heard the noise
of the sluices, which had been open for a full hour.
However, since he could see distinctly the light
from Fadette's window, he risked it ; but after two
or three steps he found that the water came up
above his knees, and he drew back, thinking that
he had made a mistake. He tried the stream abov«
and below, but in both places the water was stiU
deeper. No rain had fallen, and there was a con-
tinual roar from the sluices. It was very surprising,
102

CHAPTER XII

1MUST have tried the ford in the wrong place,"
thought Landry ; "for now I see Fadette's candle
on my right, and certainly it should be on my left."
He retraced his steps as far as the Cross of the
Lievre, and walked all lound it, keeping his eyes
closed in order to forget his previous impressions ;
and after he had examined the neighbouring trees
and bushes carefully, he struck into the beaten path
and returned to the river-bank. Although the ford
looked shallow, he dared not advance more than a
step or two ; for all of a sudden he perceived, almost
directly behind him, the light from Mother Fadet's
house, and he knew it should be full in front. He
returned to the bank, and now the light seemed to
be in its proper place. He tried the ford once more,
crossing obliquely in another direction, and this
time the water almost reached his waist. Never-
theless, he kept straight on, thinking that although
103

FADETTE

he had got into a hole, he would get out again by
keeping straight on toward the light.

He was forced to stop, for the hole grew deeper
at every step, and he was wet up to the shoulders.
The water was very cold, and he halted a moment
in doubt whether it were not best to return ; for the
light appeared to have changed its position, and he
could even see it move, glide, leap, and bound
from one bank to the other, and finally it seemed
to be double as it reflected itself in the water and
rested like a bird poised on its wings, with a little
sputtering sound like that made by a resinous torch.

This time Landry was afraid, and almost lost his
head ; for he had heard it said that there was no-
thing more deceptive and dangerous than this very
fire, which made sport of all who looked at it, and
delighted to lead them into the deepest water, laugh-
ing after its own fashion, and mocking the agony
of its victims.

Landry shut his eyes to avoid seeing it, and turn-
ing quickly, he scrambled out of the hole at all
risks and stood once more on the bank, and
watched the will-o'-the-wisp, which kept on danc-
ing and laughing. It was, indeed, uncanny to see
it dart about like a kingfisher, and again disappear
104

FADETTE

altogether. Sometimes it grew as large as the head
of a bull, and then it shrank in a twinkling to the
size of a cat's-eye. It came close to Landry, and
circled round him so quickly that he felt dazed ;
and finally seeing that he would not follow, it
turned away to flutter about among the reeds, where
it seemed to sulk and meditate some further im-
pertinence.

Landry dared not stir, for to retrace his steps
was not the way to get rid of the will-o'-the-wisp.
Everybody knows how it persists in chasing people
who run away, and how it keeps crossing their
path until it robs them of their senses and makes
them tumble into a pitfall. He was shivering with
fear and cold, when he heard behind him a very
sweet little voice singing :

Sprite, sprite, little sprite,
Take thy trumpet and thy light ;
I have my cloak, for it grows late,
And every fairy has her mate ;

and the next instant, little Fadette, who was gaily
making ready to cross the stream, without a sign of
fear or astonishment in the presence of the fairy
flame, stumbled against Landry, who was sitting on
the ground in the darkness, and then started back
105

FADETTE

swearing, just as if she were a boy not unlearned
in oaths.

"It is I, Fanchon," said Landry, getting up;
;<do not be afraid. I am no enemy of yours."

He spoke thus because he was almost as much
afraid of her as of the sprite. He had heard her
song, and understood very well that she was mak-
ing an incantation to the will-o'-the-wisp, which
danced and twirled madly before her, as if it were
glad to see her.

Then little Fadette spoke, after a moment's
thought :

"I know very well, my pretty twin, that you
only flatter me because you are frightened half to
death, and your voice shakes in your throat just
as my grandmother's does. Come, faint-heart,
nobody is as bold in the dark as in the daylight,
and I wager that you have not the courage to cross
the stream without me."

"Heavens!" exclaimed Landry. "I have just
come out of it, and was almost drowned. Are you
going to risk it, Fadette? Are you not afraid of
missing the ford?"

" And why should I miss it ? But I see what it
is that is worrying you," answered little Fadette,
1 06

FADETTE

with a laugh. " Come along, coward ; give me
your hand. The sprite is not so bad as you think,
and it only harms people that are afraid of it. 1
often see it myself, and we know each other."

Then, with more strength than Landry supposed
she possessed, she pulled him by the arm and led
him into the ford, running and singing :

I have my cloak, for it grows late,
And every fairy has her mate.

Landry felt hardly more at his ease in the society
of this little witch than in that of the will-o'-the-
wisp. However, since he liked better to see the
devil in the guise of a being of his own kind than
in the form of such a sly and fleeting fire, he made
no resistance, and was soon reassured by finding
that Fadctte had guided him so well that he was
walking again on the dry pebbles. As they walked
quickly along together, they created a draught
which attracted the will-o'-the-wisp, and so they
were continually followed by this meteor, as our
.-;choolrna:ter calls it, — and he knows a great deal
about it, and assures us that we have nothing to
fear from it.

107

CHAPTER XIII

POSSIBLY Mother Fadet, too, had some know-
ledge on the subject, and had warned her
granddaughter not to fear these nocturnal fires ; or
perhaps it was by dint of seeing them — for they
were often in the neighborhood of the ford of the
Roulettes, and it was only by an odd chance that
Landry had never beheld one near at hand — that
the little girl had come to the conclusion that the
sprite from which they emanated was not evil, and
would do no harm. She felt Landry tremble from
head to foot as the will-o'-the-wisp approached them.

" Idiot," she said to him ; " that fire does not
burn, and if you were clever enough to touch it,
you would see that it does not even leave a mark."

" That is all the worse," thought Landry. "If
fire does not burn, you cannot tell what it is. It
cannot come from God, for the fire that God gives
is made to heat and burn."
108

FADETTE

But he did not betray his thought to little Fa-
dette, and when he reached the bank safe and
sound, he felt a strong desire to leave her there
and to make his escape to the Twinnery. His
heart was not ungrateful, however, and he would
not leave Fadette without a word of thanks.

" This is the second time you have done me a
favor, Fanchon Fadet," he said to her, " and I
should be worthless did I not tell you that I shall
remember it all my life. I was sitting there like
a fool when you found me. The sprite had be-
witched and overpowered me, and I should never
have crossed the river ; or, indeed, I should never
have got out of it,"

"Perhaps you might have crossed without trou-
ble or danger if you were not such a fool," an-
swered little Fadette. "I should never have believed
that a big boy like you, who is nearly seventeen, and
will soon have a beard on his chin, could be so easily
frightened, and I am glad to see you like this."

"And why are you glad, Fanchon Fadet?"

"Because I have no liking for you," said she,
contemptuously.

"And why is it that you have no liking for
me?"

too

FADETTE

" Because I have no good opinion of you, of you
nor your twin, nor your father, nor your mother,
who are proud because they are rich, and who think
that people only do their duty when they do them
a kindness. They have taught you to be ungrate-
ful, Landry ; and that is the worst fault a man can
have except cowardice."

Landry was much humiliated by the reproaches
of the little girl, for he felt that they were not en-
tirely undeserved, and he answered her :

"If I am to blame, Fadette, blame only me.
Nobody at home, neither my brother, nor my
father and mother, know anything about the help
that you once before gave me. But this time they
shall know it, and you shall have what reward you
want."

"Ah ! here you are high and mighty, indeed,"
replied little Fadette ; "because you think that with
your presents you can square accounts with me. \
You think that 1 am like my grandmother, who
puts up with all the rudeness and insolence in the
world, so long as somebody will give her a little
money. But as for me, 1 do not want your gifts,
and I despise all you may give me ; for you have
not had the heart to find a kind or friendly word to

I 10

FADETTE

say to me since nearly a year ago, when I cured you
of a great sorrow."

"lam to blame, I confess, Fadette," said Landry,
who could not help feeling astonished at the way
in which he now heard her talk for the first time ;
"but it is also a little your own fault. There was
not much magic about making me find my brother,
since no doubt you had just been watching him
while I was telling my story to your grandmother;
and if you really had a kind heart, you, who re-
proach me with not having any, instead of allow-
ing me to wait so anxiously, and instead of giving
me directions which might have led me off the
track, would have said at once : ' Walk through
the meadow, and you will see him on the river-
bank ! ' That would not have cost you much
trouble ; but, instead of this, you made a mean joke
of my distress, and it is this that has cheapened
the price of the service you have done me."

Little Fadette had an answer ready, but she was
silent for a moment, and then she said :

"I understand very well that you have done

your best to shut out all gratitude from your heart,

and to persuade yourself that you owe me nothing

because of the reward that I insisted upon your

1 1 1

FADETTE

promising me. But once again your heart is hard
and bad, for you have never noticed that I have
not demanded anything of you, and that I have
never even reproached you for your ingratitude."

" That is true, Fanchon," said Landry, who was
honesty itself. " I am in the wrong. I have felt it,
and have been ashamed. I ought to have spoken to
you. I intended to do so, but you always looked at
me so angrily that I did not know how to go about it."

" And if you had come the day after our con-
versation to say a friendly word, you would not
have found me at all angry ; you would have dis-
covered at once that I did not wish any payment,
and we should have been friends ; but, instead of
this, I have now a very bad opinion of you, and I
ought to have left you to get away from the sprite
as best you could. Good-night, Landry of the
Twinnery ; go, dry your clothes, and tell your
parents: 'If it had not been for that little ragged
Cricket, upon my word, I should have drunk my
fill of the river to-night.' "

As she spoke thus, little Fadette turned her back
on him, and marched off toward her house, singing :

Take your lesson and your pack,
Landry Barbeau, and then go back.

I 12

FADETTE

This time Landry felt a great repentance in his
soul, — not that he was disposed to any sort of
friendship with a girl who was more clever than
kind, and whose manners were displeasing even to
those whom they amused ; but his heart was up-
right, and he wished to keep a clear conscience.
He ran after her, and caught her by her cloak.
"Come, Fanchon Fadet, he said to her, "we
must settle this matter between us and be done
with it. You are dissatisfied with me, and I am
not too well satisfied with myself. You must tell
me what you wish, and not later than to-morrow I
will bring it to you."

" I wish never to see you again," answered Fa-
dette, harshly; "and no matter what you bring
me, you may be sure I shall throw it in your face."

" You are too rude to me, now that I am trying
to make you amends. If you do not want a present,
perhaps there is some way of doing you a service
and showing you that I wish you no harm. Come,
tell me what I can do to satisfy you."

" Then you are not going to ask my pardon and
try to make friends with me?" demanded little
Fadette, stopping.

" It would be very hard to ask your pardon,"
8 1 13

FADETTE

answered Landry, unable to conquer his pride to-
ward a girl who did not receive any of the consid-
eration due to the age she had just reached, since
her behavior was too often wanting in propriety.
" As for your friendship, Fadette, your mind is so
oddly constructed that I could have no great con-
fidence in you. So, ask for something that I can
give you right away, and that I shall not have to
take back again."

"Very well, then," said Fadette, in a clear, dry
voice; " it shall be as you wish, Landry the twin.
I have offered you your pardon, and you despise
it. Now I demand the promise you have made me,
which is to obey my command the day I shall re-
quire it of you. That day shall not be later than
to-morrow, the feast of St. Andoche ; and this is
what I wish : you must dance three times with me
after mass, twice again after vespers, and still twice
again after the angelus. That will make seven
times. And all day long, from the moment you
get up till you go to bed, you must not dance
with anybody else, whether she be girl or married
woman. If you fail in this, I shall know that you
have three very ugly qualities : ingratitude, cow-
ardice, and want of faith. Good-night. To-morrow
114

FACIETTE

I shall wait for you at the door of the church to
open the dance."

And little Fadette, whom Landry had followed to
her house, drew the latch and entered so quickly
that the door was shut and latched before the twii?
could answer a word.

lip

CHAPTER XIV

LANDRY thought Fadette's idea so odd that he
_j felt more inclined to laugh than to be an-
noyed at it.

" This girl," said he to himself, " is more foolish
than bad, and more disinterested than one would
think ; for it will not ruin my family to pay her."

Still, as he thought it over, the acquittal of his
debt seemed harder than he had supposed. Little
Fadette danced very well ; he had seen her gambol
over the fields and the roadsides with the shepherds,
and she danced about like a little demon, so quickly
that her partner could hardly keep time with her.
But she was so far from pretty, and so badly dressed,
even on Sundays, that no boy of Landry's age would
dance with her — above all, in public. It was very
doubtful whether the swineherds and farm lads,
who had not as yet made their first communion,
would think her fit to be invited, and the pretty

116

FADETTE

country girls were not at all anxious to have her
dance in the same set with them. Landry felt it
very humiliating to be engaged to such a partner,
and when he remembered that he had asked the
fair Madelon to dance at least three times with him,
he wondered how she would take the affront which
he should be forced to offer her by failing to claim
his privilege.

As he was cold and hungry, and felt in con-
tinual dread of seeing the sprite in full pursuit, he
strode along without thinking much, and without
looking behind. As soon as he reached home he
dried himself, and told his family how he had not
been able to distinguish the ford because of the
darkness, and how he had been at great trouble to
get out of the water ; but he was ashamed to con-
fess the fear he had felt, and he did not say a word
about the fairy flame or little Fadette. He went
to bed, saying to himself that the morrow would
be quite soon enough to torment himself about the
consequences of his unfortunate adventure ; but try
as he would, he slept very badly. He dreamed
more than fifty times that he saw little Fadette
astride of the hobgoblin, which looked like a great
red cock holding in one of its claws a horn lantern

3* II7

FADETTE

with a candle inside, the rays of which lighted up
all the rush-field. Then little Fadette was changed
into a cricket as big as a goat, and kept shouting
to him in a cricket's voice a song which he could
not understand, but in which he kept distinguish-
ing words which rhymed, " sprite, light, mate,
late, pack, back." The noise split his head, and
the flame of the will-o'-the-wisp seemed so vivid
and restless that when he woke up he still saw
those little balls, black, red, or blue, which dance
before our eyes when we have looked too steadily
at the disks of the sun or moon.

Landry was so tired out by his bad night that he
dozed all through the mass, and did not hear a
word of the sermon, though the good cure praised
and glorified to the full the virtues and charity of
St. Andoche. As he went out of the church,
Landry was so overcome with drowsiness that he
had forgotten Fadette. Yet there she was, in front
of the porch, right next the fair Madelon, who was
standing there, quite certain that the first invita-
tion would be for her. But as he approached to
speak to her he could not help seeing the Cricket,
who took a step in advance with unparalleled as-
surance, and said to him in a loud voice :
118

FADETTE

" Come, Landry, last evening you asked me for
the first dance, and I trust that we are not going
to miss it."

Landry grew red as fire, and seeing that Madelon
blushed, too, with astonishment and indignation at
such an adventure, he plucked up courage against
little Fadette.

"I may have promised to dance with you,
Cricket," he said to her; " but I had asked an-
other before you, and your turn will come after I
have kept my first engagement."

" Not at all," rejoined Fadette boldly. " Your
memory is at fault, Landry, since the promise that
I claim was made last year, and last night you only
renewed it. If Madelon is anxious to dance with
you to-day, there is your twin, who is exactly like
you, and she may take him in your place. One is
as good as the other."

" The Cricket is right," answered Madelon,
proudly, taking Sylvinet's hand ; "since you have
made so old a promise, you must keep it, Landry.
I had just as lief dance with your brother."

11 Yes, yes ; it is just the same thing," said Syl-
vinet artlessly ; "we can all four of us dance."

Landry was obliged to consent in order to escape
119

FADETTE

the attention of the crowd, and the Cricket began
to skip with so much elation and agility that no
one ever kept better step and time. If she had
been pretty and attractive, it would have been a
pleasure to see her, for she danced admirably, and
there was not a pretty girl present who would not
have been glad to possess her lightness and ease ;
but the poor Cricket was so badly dressed that she
appeared ten times uglier than usual. Landry
dared no longer look at Madelon, for he felt
grieved and humiliated by his conduct toward her,
and he watched his partner, whom he thought
more hideous than in the rags she wore every day :
she had tried to improve herself, and her bravery
was only ridiculous.

Her cap was quite yellow from being long packed
away, and instead of being small and well tucked
up behind, according to the new fashion in our
country, it had two large flat flaps on each side of
her head, and in the back the cape fell down over
her neck, so that she looked like her grandmother,
and her head seemed as big as a bushel basket on
top of a little throat as slender as a wand. Her
coarse woolen petticoat was two fingers too short,
and as she had grown a good deal in the past year,

120

FADETTE

her lean sunburnt arms stuck out of her sleeves like
spiders' legs. She wore a crimson apron, of which
she was very proud; but she had inherited it from
her mother, and had never thought of taking off
the bib, which young girls had not worn for ten
full years. She was no coquette, poor girl, and it
would have been better for her if she had been ; for
she lived like a boy, with no thought for her per-
son, and caring for nothing but laughter and games.
Now she looked like an old woman in Sunday garb,
and she was despised for her ugly attire, which was
not the result of poverty, but of the grandmother's
avarice and the granddaughter's lack of taste.

121

CHAPTER XV

SYLVINET thought it strange that his twin had
taken such a fancy to Fadette, whom he
himself disliked still more than Landry did. Lan-
dry could not explain the situation, and wished
that the earth would swallow him. Madelon was
much displeased, and in spite of the animation
Fadette lent to the dance, their faces were as mel-
ancholy as if they were at a funeral.

After the first dance Landry stole off and went
to hide in his orchard. But in a moment little
Fadette, accompanied by the Grasshopper, who was
more noisy and outrageous than usual, because of
a peacock's feather and a gilt tassel in his cap, came
to hunt him up, and brought with her a band of
little ragged children ; for the girls of her own age
would have nothing to do with her. When Lan-
dry saw her coming with all this crew, whom she
expected to use as witnesses in case of his refusal,

122

FADETTE

he submitted and led her under the walnut-trees,
looking anxiously for a corner where he could
dance with her without exciting remark. Fortu-
nately for him, he did not see Sylvinet or Madelon,
or the people of the neighborhood, and he was
thankful to profit by the opportunity and dance
for the third time with Fadette. There were only
strangers about, who paid no attention to them.

As soon as the dance was over, he ran to invite
Madelon to share some porridge with him under
the trees; but she had been dancing with other
young men, and had promised to allow them to
treat her, and so she refused rather disdainfully.
Then, when she saw that he kept in a corner, and
that his eyes were full of tears, — because he thought
her spite and vexation made her look prettier than
ever before, and noticed that everybody else was ad-
miring her too, she finished eating quickly, and said
aloud, as she rose from table :

" Vespers are ringing now, and whom am I go-
ing to dance with afterward ? "

She turned toward Landry, expecting him to an-
swer immediately :

"With me!"

But before he could open his lips, other young
123

FADETTE

men presented themselves, and Madelon, without
deigning to give him one pitying or reproachful
look, went off to vespers with her new admirers.

As soon as vespers were over, Madelon started
off with Pierre Aubardeau, followed by Jean Ala-
denise and Etienne Alaphilippe, and danced with
one after the other ; for she could not want at-
tention, as she was a pretty girl and not without
property. Landry watched her out of the corners
of his eyes, while little Fadette stayed in the
church after the others had gone, repeating long
prayers ; for such was her habit, as some said, be-
cause of her great piety, and as others said, to hide
her game with the devil.

Landry was very sorry that Madelon paid no at-
tention to him, that she was as red as a poppy
with pleasure, and that she had already forgotten
the affront he had been forced to offer her. He
then perceived what had not before occurred to
him, — that she might possibly be a coquette, and
that, in any case, she could not be much attached
to him since she enjoyed herself so much without
him.

It is true that he knew he was in the wrong to-
ward her, at least to all appearance; but she had
124

FADETTE

seen his distress when they were under the walnut-
trees, and she might have guessed that there was
something under it all which he would be glad to
explain to her. She cared not at all, however, and
was as gay as a young kid, while his own heart
was bursting with grief.

After she had danced with her three partners,
Landry went up to her, trying to speak to her in
private in order to clear himself as best he might.
He did not know how to draw her aside, for he was
still at the age when young men are shy with
women, and could find no appropriate words. He
took her hand to lead her away, and then she
said to him, with an air of mingled petulance and
forgiveness :

"Well, Landry, are you really going to ask me
to dance, after all ? "

" Not to dance," said he ; for he did not know
how to act a part, and had no idea of breaking his
word; " but to tell you something to which you
cannot refuse to listen."

"Oh, if you have a secret to tell me, Landry, it
will do for another time," answered Madelon, pull-
ing away her hand. '* To-day is the day for danc-
ing and amusement. I am not tired yet ; and since
125

FADETTE

the Cricket has exhausted you, go to bed, if you
want. I am going to stay."

Thereupon she accepted the invitation of Ger-
main Andoux, who came up to ask her to dance ;
and as she turned her back to Landry, he heard
Germain say of him :

" That boy seems to think this dance is fof
him."

" Perhaps," said Madelon, tossing her head;
<cbut he need not think that he has me under his
thumb."

Landry was much shocked by this expression, and
stayed near the dancers to watch Madelon's man-
ners, which were not positively rude, but so arro*
gant and defiant that he felt vexed. When she
approached him again, and saw that he looked at
her with mocking eyes, she said to him in bravado:

" Well, Landry, you cannot find a partner to-
day. I declare that you will be obliged to return*
to the Cricket."

"I shall return to her with a good grace," an-
swered Landry ; " for if she is not the prettiest girl
here, she is certainly the best dancer."

Then he ran off to look round the church for
little Fadette, and brought her back to the dance,
126

FADETTE

right opposite Madelon, and danced twice with her
in the same place. It was pleasant to see how
proud and happy the Cricket was ! She did not
attempt to hide her satisfaction; her roguish black
eyes glistened, and she threw back her little head
crowned with its great cap like a crested hen.

As ill luck would have it, her triumph gave an-
noyance to five or six little ragamuffins who were
in the habit of dancing with her. They had never
snubbed her, but had always admired her on ac-
count of her good dancing ; and when they now
found it impossible to approach her, they began to
criticize her, to accuse her of being high and mighty,
and to whisper loud enough for her to hear :

" See the Cricket trying to bewitch Landry
Barbeau ! "

And then followed a shower of abusive nick
names, after the manner of the country.

127

CHAPTER XVI

THEN, whenever little Fadette passed near
them, they would pull her sleeve, or stick
out a foot to trip her up, and, among the youngest
and roughest, there were even some who hit the
flap of her cap, and knocked it from one ear to
the other, crying out :

"Hurrah for Mother Fadet's big helmet!"

The poor child struck out five or six times to
right and left ; but it served only to call attention
in her direction, and the people who knew her
began to say :

" Only see how lucky our Cricket is to-day
that Landry Barbeau dances with her all the time!
She certainly dances well, but she is putting on the
airs of a pretty girl, and struts about like a magpie."

Some of them said to Landry :

"Has she really bewitched you, poor Landry,
that you look at nobody else ? Or do you want to
128

FADETTE

learn magic, and let us see you soon driving the
wolves to pasture ? "

Landry was mortified ; but Sylvinet, who thought
his brother the finest fellow in the world, was still
more so when he saw him the laughing-stock of
everybody, even of the strangers who began to
take an interest in what was going on. They kept
asking questions, and said :

" He is a good-looking fellow, but it is odd that
he should make up to the very ugliest girl in the
whole place."

Madelon came up triumphantly to listen to all
these jeers, and joined in them without mercy:

" What can you expect ? " said she ; " Landry is
still a little child, and at his age, if a boy finds a
girl to speak to, he does not care whether she is a
scarecrow or whether she looks like a Christian."

Sylvinet took Landry by the arm, and said to
him in a low tone :

" Come home, brother, or else we shall be
drawn into a quarrel ; they are making fun of us,
and any insult offered to little Fadette reflects on
you. I do not know what made you think of
dancing with her to-day four or five times in suc-
cession. It looks as if you were trying to make
9 129

FADETTE

people laugh at you. Do stop amusing yourself in
this way. She may expose herself to the harsh-
ness and scorn of the crowd, if she chooses ; she
likes that sort of thing, and has a taste for it, but
we have not. Let us go off ; we will come back
after the angelus, and you can dance with Madelon,
who is a well-behaved girl. I have always told you
that you were too fond of dancing, and that your
love for it would lead you into some folly."

Landry followed for a few steps, but turned on
hearing a great uproar, and saw that Madelon and
the other girls had given up little Fadette to the
derision of their young men, and that some little
rogues, encouraged by the laughter they excited,
had just knocked off her cap. Her long, black
hair was streaming down over her shoulders, and
she was struggling in her rage and distress. She
had said nothing deserving such ill-treatment, and
was crying with anger, unable to recover her cap,
which a naughty boy was in the act of carrying
off on the end of a stick.

Landry was indignant, and rebelling against such

injustice, he caught hold of the ragamuffin, and

snatched away the cap, and then the stick, making

use of it to administer a sound drubbing. Then he

130

FADETTE

went back to the rest, who fled at his approach ;
and taking the poor Cricket by the hand, he re-
turned her cap to her.

Landry's vigorous action, and the terror of the
little boys, made the spectators laugh heartily.
They applauded Landry ; but Madelon turned the
tide against him, and there were some boys of Lan-
dry's age, and even some who were older than he,
who seemed to be laughing at his expense.

Landry was no longer mortified ; he was con-
scious of his strength and courage, and a certain
feeling of manhood told him that he was doing his
duty in saving a woman from ill-treatment, whether
she were pretty or ugly, big or little, so long as
he had taken her for his partner in the presence of
the whole company. He observed the manner in
which Madelon's friends were staring at him, and
he strode straight up to Aladenise and Alaphilippe,
and said to them :

"What have the rest of you to say to me ? If I
think fit to pay attention to that girl, what busi-
ness is it of yours? If you have any objection, why
do you turn away and whisper about it? Am not
I here in front of you, and do not you see me?
Somebody said that I was a little child; but there

>3'

FADETTE

is not a man present, or even a big boy, who dare
say it to my face. I am waiting for you to speak,
and then we shall see whether anybody will molest
the girl who dances withua little child like me."

Sylvinet had not left his brother's side, and al-
though he did not approve the grounds of the quar-
rel, he was ready to maintain it. Four or five of
the young men were a head taller than the twins;
but as they saw them so resolute, and were them-
selves reluctant to fight on such small provoca-
tion, they did not breathe a word, but looked at
one another to see which meant to measure his
strength with Landry. No one stepped forward,
and Landry, who had not let go Fadette's hand,
said to her :

" Put on your cap quickly, Fanchon, and let us
dance, so that I can see if anybody will try to take
it off."

"No," said little Fadette, drying her tears. " I
have danced enough to-day, and I will not hold you
to the rest."

11 No, no; we must dance again," said Landry,
v/ho was all aflame with pride and courage. " No
one shall say that you cafinot dance with me with-
out being insulted."

132

FADETTE

He made her dance again, and nobody said a word
to him, or looked at him askance. Madelon and
her admirers had gone off to dance in another place.
After the dance was over, little Fadette said to Lan-
dry in a low tone :

"Now I have had enough, Landry; I am satis-
fied with you, and I let you off your promise. I am
going home, and you may dance this evening with
whom you please."

She ran after her little brother, who was quarrel-
ing with the other children, and then disappeared
so quickly that Landry could not even see which
way she went.

Landry ate his supper at home with his brother.
He found Sylvinet so despondent over what had
happened that he told him how he had encountered
the will-o'-the-wisp on the previous evening, and
how little Fadette had saved him, either by cour-
age or magic, and, as her reward, had asked him to
dance with her seven times on the feast of St. An-
doche. He said nothing of the rest, as he was un-
willing to admit how terribly he had feared the
possibility of finding Sylvinet drowned the year be-
fore ; and he did wisely^for the evil ideas which
children sometimes take into their heads are apt
9* 133

FADETTE

to return if people pay too much attention to such
things, or even mention thern!)

Sylvinet was glad that his brother had kept his
word, and told Landry that the annoyance he had
suffered only increased his respect for him. Though
he was terrified at the thought of Landry's peril in
the river, he felt no gratitude toward little Fadette.
She was so repulsive to him that he was unwilling
«;o believe she had met his brother by accident, or
helped him out of kindness.

"It is she," said he, "who conjured up the
sprite to confuse your brain, and make you drown;
but God would not allow her to succeed, because
you were not then, and never have been, in a state
of deadly sin. That bad Cricket, abusing your
good nature and gratitude, cajoled you into a prom-
ise which she knew would prove troublesome and
hurtful to you. That girl is very wicked ; all
witches love evil, and they are all bad. She knew
that she would get you into trouble with Madelon
and your respectable acquaintances. She wanted to
make you fight, too ; and if God had not protected
you against her for the second time, you might
have been drawn into a serious quarrel, and have
fallen into misfortune."

134

FADHTTE

Landry was in the habit of seeing things through
his brother's eyes, and thinking that Sylvinet might
be in the right, did not attempt to defend Fadette
against him. They talked together of the will-o'-
the-wisp, which Sylvinet had never beheld, and
which he was very curious to hear of, without the
slightest desire to see it. They dared not speak of
it to their mother, for the bare thought of it
alarmed her ; nor to their father, for he laughed at
it, and had seen it twenty times without paying
any attention to it.

The dancing was to continue till, late at night,
but Landry, sick at heart because he had broken
with Madelon, was unwilling to profit by the free-
dom which Fadette had allowed him, and went
to help his brother drive the cattle home from
pasture. The road brought him half way to the
Priche, and as his head was aching, he said good-
night to his brother at the end of the rush-field.
Sylvinet was unwilling to let him cross the ford
of the Roulettes, lest the will-o'-the-wisp or the
Cricket should play him some evil turn. He made
him promise to go the longest way, round by the
foot-bridge near the big mill.

Landry followed his brother's wishes, and in-

«35

FADETTE

stead of crossing the rush-field, he went along the
wooded pathway that skirts the side of Chaumois
Hill. He was not afraid, because the noise of mer-
riment still lingered in the air. He heard at a
distance the bagpipes and the shouts of the dancers
at the festival, and he was aware that spirits work
no spells when the neighborhood is not asleep.

When he reached the foot of the hill, he heard
something sobbing and crying beside the road.
At first he took it for the curlew, but as he drew
nearer, he was sure that the voice was human,
and as his courage never failed him when he had
to deal with beings of his own kind, especially
those in need of help, he jumped down into the
most sunken part of the road.

The person who was weeping became silent at
the sound of his footsteps.

"Who is crying here?" he asked in a resolute
voice.

Nobody answered.

"Is there a sick person here?" said he again.

As there was no reply, he was about to go

ahead ; but he wished first to search among the

stones and the big thistles which obstructed the

place, and he soon saw by the light of the rising

136

FADETTE

moon a figure stretched out at length on the
ground, the feet toward him, motionless as a dead
body ; and he was at first uncertain whether it were
really one, or a living person who had flung herself
down there in great affliction, and, to escape de-
tection, did not stir.

As yet Landry had never seen or touched a dead
body. The idea that this might be one caused
him great emotion ; but he overcame it, because
he thought it his duty to help his neighbor, and
he walked up resolutely to feel the hand of the
person lying there, who, seeing it impossible to
avoid recognition, half rose at his approach ; and
then Landry knew it was little Fadette.

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-

u

FADETTE

nothing like a girl about you, and your manners
and appearance are just like a boy's ; and then you
take no care of your person. In the first place, you
do not look neat and clean, and your dress and your
way of speaking make you seem ugly. You know
that the children call you by a much worse name
than Cricket. They often call you the " Tomboy."
Well, do you think it is nice not to look like a
girl at sixteen ? You climb trees like a regular squir-
rel, and when you jump on a mare without saddle
or bridle, you gallop off as if the devil were after
you. It is a good thing to be strong and agile; it
is a good thing, too, to be afraid of nothing, and it
is a natural advantage for a man. But for a wo-
man there is such a thing as too much, and you
seem to want to attract attention. So people stare
at you, tease you, and shout at you as they do
at a wolf. You are clever, and give sharp an-
swers, which are amusing to those whom you are
not trying to provoke. It is a good thing, again, to
be cleverer than other people ; but if your wit is too
apparent, you will make enemies. You are inquisi-
tive, and when you have found out other people's
secrets, you cast them in their faces very cruelly
the moment you have any cause for complaint. So
140

FADETTE

people fear you ; if they fear you, they will hate
you, and will give worse than they get. In short,
whether you are a witch or not, — and I am willing
io believe that you have uncommon knowledge,
although I hope you have not tampered with evil
spirits, — you try to make people believe that you
are one, in order to terrify your enemies; and you
are earning a very unenviable reputation by so do-
ing. These are your faults, Fanchon Fadet, and it is
because of these faults that nobody likes you. Think
it over a little, and you will see that if you are willing \
to be more like the rest of us, people will be more
apt to appreciate your superior intelligencer

" I thank you, Landry," answered little Fadette,
very earnestly, after listening religiously to all that
the twin had to say. " You have found fault with
me like everybody else, but you have done so with
tact and kindness, and that is more than others do;
but now will you let me answer you, and that I
may do so, will you sit down by my side for just
a moment ?"

" It is not a very nice place," said Landry, who
was not particularly anxious to stay with her, and
who was still thinking of the evil spells she was ac-
cused of casting over those least expecting them.
141

^v

FADETTE

11 You do not think it a nice place," answered
she, "because you rich people are hard to please.
You must have soft turf to sit on, out of doors, and
in your meadows and gardens you can choose the
most beautiful spots and the thickest shade. But
those who have nothing do not ask so much of
God, and use the first stone they meet as a pillow
for their heads. Thorns do not wound their feet,
and wherever they are, they observe everything
that is attractive and lovely in heaven and on earth.
/No place is ugly to those who understand the virtues |
V and sweetness of everything that God has made. 7/
Without being a witch, I know the uses of the
smallest herbs which you crush underfoot, and
when I understand what they are good for, I take
pleasure in them, and despise neither their perfume
nor their form. I say this, Landry, so that I may
now tell you something else, which relates to Chris-
tian souls as well as to garden flowers and roadside
weeds : it is that we are too apt to despise what
appears to be neither good nor beautiful, and thus

we lose what is helpful and salutary."

" I do not understand very well what you mean,"

said Landry, sitting down beside her.

Neither spoke for a minute, for little Fadette's
142

FADETTE

mind had soared away to ideas unknown to Lan-
dry ; and although his own head was somewhat
confused, he could not help listening with pleasure
to the girl ; for he had never heard a voice so sweet
or thoughts so well expressed as the voice and
thoughts of little Fadette at that moment.

" Listen, Landry," said she to him. " I am more
to be pitied than blamed ; and if I have wronged
myself, I have at least never done serious harm to
others, and if people were more just and reasonable,
they would pay more attention to my good heart
than to my ugly face and shabby clothes. Think a
minute, or let me tell you if you do not know it
already, what my life has been since I was born. I
shall speak no ill of my poor mother, whom every-
body insults and blames, although she is away and
cannot defend herself, and lam powerless to help her;
for I do not even know how greatly she sinned, or
how much she was tempted. Well, the world is so
evil that just after my mother had left me, while
I was still weeping bitterly for her loss, at the least
quarrel the other children had with me, whether
it were over a game or a mere nothing, which they
would have easily forgiven one another, they cast
my mother's shame in my face, and tried to make
«43

FADETTE

me blush for her. In my place, perhaps, a sensible
girl, such as you describe, would have been abashed
into silence, thinking it prudent to abandon the
cause of her mother, and to let her suffer the in-
sults which she herself thus escaped. But, you see,
I could not do so. It was more than I could stand.
My mother is always my mother ; and no matter
what she is, and whether I ever see her again, or
whether I never hear of her any more, I shall always
love her with my whole heart. So, when they call
me the child of a camp-follower and a vivandiere,
I am angry, not on my own account, — for I know
that it cannot hurt me, as I have done no wrong, —
but because of that poor dear woman whom it is
my duty to defend. And, as I cannot defend her,
for I do not know how, I take my revenge by show-
ing them that they are no better than my mother,
4t whom they cast their stones. That i: why they
say that I am inquisitive and impertinent, and that
I try to find out their secrets in order to make them
public. It is true that God made me inquisitive,
if you call it inquisitive to wish to know hidden
things ; but if I had been kindly and decently
treated, I should not have thought of satisfying
vny curiosity at the expense of my neighbor. I
144

FADETTE

should have confined my amusement to learning
such secrets for the cure of the human body as my
grandmother teaches me. Flowers, herbs, stones,
insects, — all the secrets of nature would have fur-
nished me with enough occupation and pleasure.
As I love to roam about and examine everything,
I might have been alone all the time without
knowing what it is to be bored ; for my greatest
pleasure is to go off to those spots which nobody
knows, and to spend my time there in dreaming
of fifty things yyhicK I have never even heard
mentioned by people who think themselves very
wise and thoughtful. If I have allowed myself to
have dealings with acquaintances, it is because I
was anxious to help them with the little knowledge I
have acquired for myself, and out of which my grand-
mother often makes her own profit, without a word.
When I healed the wounds and ailments of the
children of my own age, and taught them my rem-
edies without the least thought of payment, in-
stead of thanking me, they treated me like a witch ;
and those who came to ask my advice very politely
when they stood in need of my services, were
very rude to me the next time they found an
opportunity.

145

FADETTE

11 That made me angry, and I might have done
them harm; for if I know helpful things, I know
hurtful things as well ; but I have never been
willing to use them ; I do not bear malice, and if
I revenge myself in words, it is because I feel re-
lieved by saying immediately what comes to the
tip of my tongue, and then I forgive and forget,
according to God's commandment. If I take no
care of my person and manners, it should teach
you that I am not such a fool as to think myself
pretty, when I know that 1 am so ugly that no-
body can bear the sight of me. I have heard so
often enough to be sure of it ; and when I see
how harsh and disdainful people are to those who
have few of the good gifts of God, I take pleasure
in shocking them, and comfort myself in the
thought that my face cannot be repulsive to God
or to my guardian angel, who will no more ob-
ject to it in me than I object to receiving it from
them. 1 do not belong to those who say : ' There
is a caterpillar, — an ugly brute, — oh, how hideous
it is ! We must kill it ! ' I do not crush God's poor
creature; and if the caterpillar fall into the water, I
hold out a leaf to it to save its life. On account
of this, they say 1 like noxious creatures, and that
146

FADETTE

I am a witch, because I do not like to hurt a frog,
to pull off the legs of a wasp, or to nail a bat
against a tree. 'Poor creature,' I say, 'if every
ugly thing ought to die, I should have no more
right to live than you ! ' "

147

CHAPTER XVIII

SO ME H OW or other, Landry was moved by the
way in which little Fadette spoke so humbly
and quietly of her ugliness, and calling to mind
her face, which he could not see in the darkness
of the night, he said to her, without a thought
of flattery :

" But, Fadette, you are not so ugly as you think
you are, or as you try to make out. There are
other girls far more unattractive than you, whom
no one criticizes."

" Whether I am a little less ugly or positively
hideous, Landry, you cannot say that I am a pretty
girl. Come, do not try to comfort me ; for I do not
feel badly about it."

"Who knows how you would look if you were
well dressed, and had on a cap like other girls!
There is one thing that, everybody says, and that
is, that if your nose were not so short, and your

148

FADETTE

mouth were not so large, and your skin were not
so dark, you would not be at all bad looking; for
they say, too, that there is not another pair of eyes
like yours in all the country round, and if their
expression were not so bold and sarcastic, anybody
would like to have a kind look out of them."

Landry spoke thus without being much aware
of what he was saying. He found himself recall-
ing the good and bad points of little Fadette, and,
for the first time, he paid more attention to the
subject than he would have thought possible a few
minutes earlier. She noticed it, though she pre-
tended not to do so ; for she was too clever to take
it seriously.

" My eyes look kindly on everything that is
good," said she, " and with pity on what is not.
1 do not mind displeasing people who do not please
me, and I cannot imagine how all those pretty
girls whom I see courted, are so coquettish toward
everybody, as if everybody were to their taste. As
for me, if I were pretty, I should wish only to be
admired and thought attractive by the one person
I cared about."

Landry's mind reverted to Madelon ; but little
Fadette did not let his thoughts rest. She went on :
149

FADETTE

"All the wrong I have done to other people,
then, Landry, is that I never asked their pity or in-
dulgence for my ugliness, but showed it without
any attempt at embellishment or disguise; and that
is such a great offense that they forget how I have
often done them a good turn, and never a bad one.
On the other hand, even if I took care of my
appearance, how should I find money for finery?
Have I ever begged, although I have not a penny
to my name ? Does my grandmother give me any-
thing except board and lodging? And if I don't
know how to make the best of the poor rags my
mother left me, — is it my fault, as long as no-
body has ever taught me, and as I have been left
to myself since I was ten years old, with nobody
to love or care for me ? I know the fault that people
find with me, though you have been kind enough
not to speak of it. They say that I am sixteen,
and could very well take a situation, and that then
1 should have wages and money enough to support
myself; but that my love of idleness and doing as
I please keeps me with my grandmother, though
she is not at all fond of me, and has plenty of
means to hire a servant."

" Well, Fadette, is that not true ?" said Landry.
150

FADETTE

"You are blamed for not liking to work, and even
your grandmother says to anybody who is willing
to listen to her, that it would be an advantage to
her to keep a servant in your place."

" My grandmother says that because she likes to
scold and complain. But whenever I talk of leav-
ing her, she insists upon my staying, because she
knows very well that 1 am more useful to her than
she cares to admit. Her eyes are not so good, nor
her legs so young, as they once were to help her in
her search for herbs, some of which grow far away
in very inaccessible places, and are necessary for her
potions and powders. Besides, I have already told
you that I can find in herbs virtues she knows nothing
of, and she is much astonished when she sees the
good effect of the medicines I compound. Our ani-
mals are in such fine condition that everybody is
surprised, as it is known we have no pasturage ex-
cept that of the parish. My grandmother is well
aware to whom she owes the fine wool of her
sheep and the good milk of her goats. I can tell
you that she is not anxious to let me go, and I am
worth more than I cost her. I love my grand-
mother, although she is cross to me and deprives
me of many things. But I have another reason for
151

FADETTE

not leaving her, and I will tell it if you want to
hear it, Landry."

" Very well, tell it to me," answered Landry,
who was not weary of listening to Fadette.

" When I was only ten years old, my mother
left to my care a poor ugly child, as ugly as I am,
and still more unfortunate, because he has been a
cripple from his birth, puny, sickly, and always in
some trouble or mischief, as he is always suffering,
poor fellow ! And everybody torments him, re-
pulses him, and calls him names, poor Grasshopper!
My grandmother scolds him roughly, and would
beat him if I did not protect him against her, and
pretend to thrash him in her place. But I always
take great care not to hurt him in earnest, and he
knows it very well ! As soon as he does wrong,
he runs to hide in my petticoats, and says to me :
'Beat me before my grandmother gets hold of me!'
And then I beat him in fun, and the little rascal
pretends to cry. Then I look after him. I cannot
always keep him from being in rags, poor child ;
but whenever I have any kind of a garment, I make
it over for him, and I cure him when he is ill,
whereas my grandmother would kill him, for she
does not know how to take care of children ; so I

152

FADETTE

preserve this poor little wretch's life, and if I were
not here, he would be very unhappy, and would
soon lie in the ground beside my poor father,
whom I could not keep from dying. I do not
know whether I do the poor boy a kindness by
keeping him alive, crooked as he is in body and
mind ; but I cannot help myself. And when I
think of going out to service, Landry, so as to
have some money of my own, and to escape my
present poverty, my heart is ready to burst with
pity, and accuses me as if I were my little Grass-
hopper's mother, and were letting him die by some
fault of mine. Now, I have told you all my faults
and failings, Landry. May God be my judge ! As
for me, I forgive all those who misunderstand me."

153

CHAPTER XIX

LANDRY had listened to little Fadette with con-
_j flicting emotions, and without finding any-
thing to contradict in the reasons she gave. At
last the way in which she spoke of her little bro-
ther, the Grasshopper, greatly affected him, and he
suddenly felt such a liking for her that he would
have defended her against all the world.

" This time, Fadette, whoever finds fault with you
deserves to be blamed first himself; for everything
you have said is very just, and nobody suspects you
of having such a good heart and sound judgment.
Why do you not show yourself for what you are?
Then nobody would speak ill of you, and some
people would do you justice."

" I have already told you, Landry, that I do not
care to please thos£_^vho-do not please me."

" If you tell this to me, you must mean — "

There Landry stopped, surprised at what he was
on the point of saying ; and then he resumed :
IS4

FADETTE

"So you must feel more good-will toward me
than toward others? I always thought you hated
me because I never was kind to you."

11 Perhaps I did hate you a little," answered
Fadette ; " but if I did, I shall never hate you
again after to-day, and I am going to tell you why,
Landry. I thought you were proud, and so you
are ; but you are able to overcome your pride for
the sake of your duty, and deserve the greater
praise. I thought you were ungrateful, and though
the pride which you have been taught inclines you
toward ingratitude, you are so true to your word
that you keep it at all cost; then, too, I thought
you a coward, and almost despised you for it ; but
I see you are only superstitious, and that you are
never wanting in courage when you have a real
danger to face. You danced with me to-day,
though it was humiliating to you. You even came
after vespers to look for me in the church, just as
I had said my prayers, and had forgiven you in
my heart and determined not to torment you any
more. You protected me against those naughty
children, and challenged the big boys who would
have maltreated me if it had not been for you ;
and this evening, when you heard me crying, you

'55

FADETTE

came to help and comfort me. Do not think,
Landry, that I shall ever forget these things. You
may be sure all your life that I shall remember
them ; and in your turn, you may ask of me what-
ever you want at any time. Now, to begin with,
I know that I have caused you serious trouble to-
day. Yes, I know it, Landry, and I am witch
enough to guess something about you of which I
was quite ignorant this morning. You may be cer-
tain than I am more mischievous than unkind, and
that if I had known that you were in love with
Madelon, 1 should not have stirred up strife between
you, as I did by forcing you to dance with me. It
amused me, I confess, to see you neglect a pretty
girl in order to dance with an ugly one like me,
but I thought it was only a smart to your vanity.
As I gradually understood that your heart was
really wounded, and that in spite of yourself you
watched Madelon, and were ready to cry when you
saw how angry she was, I cried myself. Honestly,
1 cried just as you were going to fight with her ad-
mirers, and you thought I was shedding tears of
repentance. That is the reason I was still crying
so bitterly when you came upon me here by ac-
cident, and I shall cry over it until I can repair the

i56

FADETTE

harm I have done to such a good fellow as I know
you to be."

" Suppose, poor Fanchon," said Landry, much
moved by the tears she was beginning to shed
afresh, — "suppose you have caused some trouble
between me and a girl with whom you think I am
in love, what could you do to set it right?"

11 Trust me, Landry," answered little Fadette.
"I am clever enough to make a satisfactory ex-
planation. Madelon shall know that I am to blame
for everything. If she does not take you back into
her favor to-morrow, it will be because she has never
loved you, and — "

" And then I ought not to regret her, Fanchon ;
and as she has never loved me, you would really
be taking pains for nothing. Leave it alone, and
forget the little vexation you caused me; I am al-
ready cured of it."

"Such wounds are not so easily healed," an-
swered little Fadette ; then, recollecting herself, she
went on : " At least they say so. You are talking
so out of pique, Landry. When you have slept
on it, and to-morrow comes, you will be very
sad until you have made your peace with pretty
Madelon."

157

FADETTE

"Perhaps," said Landry ; "but now I stake my
word upon it that I do not understand what you
mean, and think no more about it. I fancy it is
you who want to make me believe that I am in
love with her ; but if I did care for her, it was so
little that I have almost forgotten it."

" That is strange," said little Fadette, with a
sigh. " Is that the way you boys love?"

" You girls do not love a whit better, since you
are so easily offended, and console yourselves so
quickly with the first man who comes along. But
we are speaking of things which perhaps we do
not as yet understand, — at least I do not think you
do, little Fadette, — you, who are always laughing at
lovers. I think that you are making fun of me by
trying to patch up my quarrel with Madelon. Do
nothing about it, I tell you; for she might think
that I sent you, and then she would make a mis-
take. And she might be angry if she thought I
were presenting myself in the light of her declared
lover ; for the truth is that I never said a word of
love to her, and if I took pleasure in her society
and in dancing with her, she never inspired me
with the courage to tell it to her. So let us leave
it alone. She will get over it herself, if she wishes ;
.58

FADETTE

and if she does not get over it, I do not think it
will kill me."

" I know what you think, better than you do
yourself, Landry/' answered little Fadette. " I be-
lieve you when you say that you have never told
Madelon of your love in words, but she would be
very stupid if she had not read it in your eyes, —
above all, to-day. Since I was the cause of your
quarrel, I must also be the cause of your reconcili-
ation, and it will be a good opportunity to let
Madelon know that you love her. It will be my
part to tell her, and I shall do it so delicately and
with so much tact that she cannot accuse you of
having instigated me. Yes, Landry, you may trust
little Fadette, the poor Cricket, whose heart is not
so ugly as her face ; and forgive her for having
tormented you, for you will reap a great reward
in the end. You will know that if it is sweet to
have the love of a pretty girl, it is useful to have
the friendship of an ugly one ; for ugly girls are
disinterested, and never feel spite or malice."

" Whether you are pretty or ugly, Fanchon," said

Landry, taking her hand, " I think that I already

understand that your friendship is a very good

thing — so good that love is perhaps poor in com-

*59

FADETTE

parison. I know that you are very good-natured;
for I have been very rude to you to-day, and you
have paid no attention to it ; and though you say
I have behaved well toward you, I myself know
that my conduct has been very wrong."

" How can that be, Landry ? I do not know
what you mean."

" Because I did not kiss you once in the dance,
Fanchon, though it was both my duty and my priv-
ilege, since it is the custom. I treated you as young
men treat little girls ten years old, whom they will
not condescend to kiss, and yet you are almost my
age. So I really insulted you, and if you were not
a kind girl, you would have noticed it."

" 1 never even thought of it," said little Fadette;
and she rose quickly, for she felt that she was lying,
and she did not wish him to know it. "Come,"
said she, making an effort to appear gay, " listen
to the crickets chirping in the stubble ; they are
calling me by my name, and there is an owl over
there hooting the hour which the stars mark on
heaven's dial."

" 1 hear it too, and I must go home to the Priche ;
but before I say good-night, will you not tell me
that you forgive me ? "

1 60

FADETTE

" But I bear you no grudge, Landry, and I have
nothing to forgive."

" Yes," said Landry, who was moved by an in-
definable emotion as she spoke to him of love and
friendship in a voice so sweet that that of the bull-
finches drowsily twittering in the bushes seemed
harsh in comparison, — " yes, you have something
to forgive, and you must let me kiss you now to
make amends for not having done it to-day."

Fadette trembled a little ; then, immediately re-
gaining her equanimity:

" You want me to make you do penance for
your fault. Well, I let you off, my boy. It was
quite enough to dance with an ugly girl ; it would
be too much virtue to insist upon kissing her."

" Do not say that," exclaimed Landry, catching
her by the hand and arm at the same time. "I
do not think it can be a penance to kiss you — un-
less you feel distaste and scorn for it, coming as it
does from me."

As soon as he had spoken, he was conscious of
such a desire to kiss little Fadette that he trembled
with fear lest she should not consent.

" Listen. Landry," she said in her sweet, caressing
voice; "if I were pretty, I should tell you that it is
11 161

FADETTE

neither the place nor the hour for kissing, as if in
secret. If I were a flirt, I should think, on the
contrary, that this is both the place and the hour;
because the night hides my ugliness, and there is
nobody here to make you ashamed of your vagary.
But I am neither pretty nor a flirt, and this is what
I say : ' Shake hands with me in token of our
honest friendship, and I shall be happy, — I, who
have never known what friendship is, and who
shall never ask it of another.'"

"Yes," said Landry, " I shake hands with you
with all my heart — do you hear, Fadette ? But the
most honest friendship, such as mine for you, need
not stand in the way of our kissing. If you deny
me this test, I shall believe that you still have
some grudge against me."

Then he tried to kiss her unawares ; but she drew
back, and as he persisted, she began to cry, saying:

"Go away, Landry ; you give me great pain."

Landry stopped in astonishment, and was so
vexed to see her in tears, that he was almost angry.

" I see," said he ; " you are not telling me the
truth when you say my friendship is the only one
you wish for. You have another, and a stronger,
which forbids your kissing me."

162

FADETTE

"No, Landry," she answered, sobbing; " but I
am afraid that if you kiss me at night without see-
ing me, you will hate me when you see me again
by daylight."

"Have I never seen you?" cried Landry impa-
tiently, "and cannot I see you now? Come a lit-
tle this way into the moonlight. Now I can see
you distinctly, and I do not know whether you are
ugly or not; but I love your face because I love you,
and that is all I can say."

Then he kissed her, trembling at first, but after-
ward he kept on so eagerly that she was frightened,
and pushed him away, saying :

"That is enough, Landry! I begin to think
that you are kissing me in anger, or that you are
thinking of Madelon. Be calm ; I shall speak to
her to-morrow, and you will find more enjoyment
in kissing her than any I can give you."

Thereupon she scrambled quickly up the bank,
and went off with a light step.

Landry was infatuated, and longed to run after
her. He started three times in pursuit, before de-
ciding to go down toward the river. Finally,
thinking that the devil was after him, he began
to run, and never stopped till he reached the Priche.
163

FADETTE

The next day, he went to look after his oxen at
the early dawn, and as he was feeding them and
stroking them, his thoughts recurred to the con-
versation he had had with little Fadette in the
Chaumois road, and which, though it had lasted a
whole hour, had seemed to him but a moment.
His head was heavy with sleep, and his mind was
wearied by the fatigue of a day which had turned
out so contrary to his expectation. He was troubled
and frightened by what he had felt for this girl,
who came back to his mind, ugly and ill-dressed
as he had always known her. Now and then he
thought that he must have dreamed his desire to
kiss her, especially when he recalled his happiness
in pressing her to his heart, and the great affec-
tion he had felt for her, just as if she had suddenly
become the prettiest and dearest girl in the world.

li She must be a sorceress, as they say she is, al-
though she denies it," thought he ; " for surely she
bewitched me last evening, and I never in my life
felt such intense love for father, mother, sister, or
brother, certainly not for the pretty Madelon, and
not even for my dear twin Sylvinet, as I did during
two or three minutes for that little fiend of a girl.
If poor Sylvinet had been able to look into my
164

FADETTE

heart, he would have died of jealousy on the spot-
My attachment to Madelon did not interfere with
my love for my brother, whereas, if I should be
infatuated and excited for one whole day as 1 was
for one moment by Fadette's side, I should lose my
senses, and think there was no other person in the
world."

Landry felt bursting with shame, fatigue and
impatience. He sat down on the manger of his
oxen, and trembled lest the little witch had robbed
him of his courage, his senses, and his health.

As the day grew lighter the laborers of the Priche
came to their work, and began to tease him for
dancing with the ugly Cricket; and in their banter
they made her out so hideous, so ill-mannered,
and so badly dressed that he did not know where
to hide his shame both for what had been seen
and for what he was careful to keep to himself.

He did not lose his temper, however, for the men
of the Priche were all good friends of his, and teased
him without any malicious intention. He even
had the courage to tell them that they did not
know little Fadette ; that she was worth more than
many other girls ; and that she was capable of great
kindness. Then they redoubled their raillery.
"* 165

FADETTE

"\ don't speak of her mother," said one; "but
she herself is a most stupid child, and if one of
your animals is sick, I advise you not to follow her
remedies ; for she is a little chatterbox, and has no
secret art of healing. But apparently she knows
Viow to bewitch boys, for you never left her all the
4ay of St. Andoche ; and you had better take care,
poor Landry, for you will soon be called the
Cricket's cricket, and the sprite's sprite. The devil
will be after you. The hobgoblin will come to
twitch the sheets off our beds, and tangle our
horse's manes. We shall be obliged to have you
exorcised."

" I think," said little Solange, " that he must
have put on one of his stockings wrong side out yes-
terday morning. That attracts witches, and little
Fadette observed it."

1 66

CHAPTER XX

URING the day, as Landry was busy at his
work, he saw little Fadette passing by. She
was walking quickly toward a coppice where
Madelon was cutting leaves for her sheep. It was
the hour for unyoking the oxen, when half their
day's work was done, and as Landry was leading
them to pasture, he kept watching little Fadette,
who ran with such a light foot that she scarcely
seemed to touch the grass. He was curious to
know what she was going to say to Madelon, and
instead of hastening to eat his soup, which was
waiting for him in the furrow still hot from the
plowshare, he crept noiselessly along the edge of
the grove to listen to what was going on between
the young girls. He could not see them, and as
Madelon muttered her answers, he could not tell
what she was saying ; but little Fadette's voice, if
low, was none the less clear, and though she did
167

FADETTE

not raise it in the least, he did not lose a single
syllable. She was speaking of him to Madelon,
and telling her, as she had promised Landry, how,
ten months before, she had forced him to give his
word to be at her disposal whenever she should
require it. She explained everything so humbly
and sweetly that it was a pleasure to hear her.
Then, without mentioning the will-o'-the-wisp or
Landry's fear of it, she told how he had come near
drowning by attempting the ford of the Roulettes
in the wrong place on the eve of St.Andoche. In
short, she put everything in the most favorable
light, and insisted that all the harm had sprung
from her vanity, and her desire to dance with a big
boy instead of the little ones who had always been
her partners.

Then Madelon, in a rage, raised her voice and
said :

"What do I care for all that? You may dance
all your life with the twins of the Twinnery ; but
you must not think, Cricket, that you offend me or
make me jealous in the least degree."

Fadette went on :

" Do not speak so cruelly of poor Landry,
Madelon ; for Landry has given you his heart, and

1 68

FADETTE

if you will not accept it, he "'ill be sorrier than I
can say."

She spoke so prettily, and with so caressing a
tone, and with such praise of Landry, that he
longed for her powers of speech to use when it
should serve his turn, and he blushed with plea-
sure at hearing himself so commended.

Madelon was amazed, too, at little Fadette's elo-
quence; but she scorned her too much to let her
admiration appear.

"You have a clever tongue, and great boldness,"
said she. "I might think your grandmother had
been teaching you how to wheedle ; but I do not
like to talk to witches ; it is unlucky, so please go
away, foolish Cricket. You have found a beau —
keep him, my darling ; for he is the first and last
one who will ever care for your ugly face. As for
me, I would not play second fiddle to you, — no, not
even for a king's son. Your Landry is a fool, and
he must be absolutely worthless, since, when you
think you have stolen him from me, you come to
beg me to take him back again. A young man
whom even little Fadette disdains would make a
fine beau for me ! "

" If that is what wounds you," answered Fadette
169

FADETTE

in a tone which pierced to the very bottom of
Landry's heart, " and if you are so haughty that
you will not consent to do justice to him until you
have humiliated me, put yourself at ease, beautiful
Madelon, and trample under your feet the pride and
spirit of the poor little Cricket of the fields. You
think that I disdain Landry, or that otherwise I
should not beg you to forgive him. Very well, I will
tell you, if you wish to know, that I have long loved
him ; that he is the only boy I have ever thought
of, and that perhaps I shall think of him all my
life ; but I have too much good sense, and also too
much pride, to imagine that 1 can ever make him
fall in love with me. I know what he is, and I
know what I am. He is handsome, rich, and held
in high esteem ; I am ugly, poor, and despised.
So I know that he is not for me, and you must have
seen how he scorned me at the festival. So you
may be indeed content ; for the man to whom little
Fadette dares not so much as lift up her eyes is full
of love for you. Punish little Fadette by laughing
at her, and by carrying off the friend whom she
would not dare take from you. If it may not be
for love of him, let it be at least as a punishment
for my insolence, and promise me when he comes
170

FADETTE

to make his peace with you, to comfort him and to
receive him kindly."

Instead of being moved by so much humility and
self-devotion, Madelon showed great harshness, and
as she sent little Fadette away, she told her repeat-
edly to keep possession of Landry ; as for her, she
considered him a mere child and a fool. But little
Fadette's great sacrifice bore its fruit in spite of
pretty Madelon's rebuffs. Women's hearts are so
made that a young lad seems a man to them as
soon as they see him petted and made much of by
other women. Madelon, who had never thought
very seriously of Landry, began to think of him in
earnest as soon as Fadette left her. She remem-
bered all the eloquent little talker had said of Lan-
dry's affection, and when she reflected that Fadette
had gone so far as to acknowledge herself in love
with him, she reveled in the idea of taking her
revenge on the poor girl.

She went that evening to the Priche, which was
distant only two or three gunshots from her own
house, and under pretext of looking up one of her
cattle which had strayed off among her uncle's herds,
she let Landry catch sight of her, and with a glance
encouraged him to come up and speak to her.
171

V

FADETTE

Landry understood very well, for his wits were
singularly sharpened since his adventure with little
Fadette. " Fadette is a witch," thought he ; " she
has restored me to Madelon's good graces, and has
done more for me in a quarter of an hour's con-
versation than I could do for myself in a year. She
is wonderfully clever, and few girls have so kind a
heart as she."

As he thought of this, he looked toward Madelon,
but his gaze was so tranquil that she withdrew be-
fore he had made up his mind to speak to her. He
was not exactly bashful in her presence ; his shy-
ness had fled, he knew not how ; but with his shy-
ness, his delight in her society, and the desire he
had once felt to please her, were gone also.

As soon as he had finished supper, he pretended
to go to sleep. But he got out of bed on the side
next the wall, crept noiselessly along, and set ofY
straight toward the ford of the Roulettes. The
will-o'-the-wisp was carrying on its little dance
there again that evening. As soon as Landry saw
it skipping about, he thought to himself:

" So much the better; the sprite is here, and the
sprite's mistress cannot be far off."

He crossed the ford fearlessly, and without mak-
172

FADETTE

ing any mistake, and kept on as far as Mother
Fadet's house, looking anxiously on every side. He
waited a few minutes without seeing a light or
hearing a sound. Everybody had gone to bed. He
hoped that the Cricket, who was in the habit of
taking nocturnal rambles after her grandmother
and the Grasshopper had gone to sleep, might be
wandering about in the neighborhood ; and so he
set off in the direction he thought she might have
taken. He crossed the rush-field, and went as far
as the Chaumois road, whistling and singing aloud
to attract attention ; but he met only a badger
trotting through the stubble, and an owl hooting
in a tree-top. He was obliged to go home without
finding an opportunity to thank the good friend
who had served him so well.

f7*

CHAPTER XXI

THE whole week passed without Landry's
meeting Fadette, and he grew surprised
and anxious.

" She will think me ungrateful," thought he;
" but though I have not seen her, it is not because
I have not searched and watched for her. I must
have hurt her feelings by kissing her the other
evening, but I meant no harm, and had no idea
of offending her."

He did more thinking this week than ever before
in his life ; his mind was not clear, but he was
thoughtful and excited, and he was obliged to
make an effort to work ; for the great oxen, the
shining plowshare, and the rich red earth, moist
with the fine autumnal rains, no longer sufficed
for his dreams and meditations.

He went to see his twin on Thursday evening,
and found him as troubled as himself. Sylvinet's
?74

FADETTE

character was different from his, but sometimes
alike by sympathy. He seemed to have guessed
that something was disturbing his brother's mind,
though he was really far from suspecting the truth.
He asked him if he had made peace with Madelon,
and Landry told him voluntarily a falsehood for the
first time by pretending that he had. In reality,
Landry had not said a word to Madelon, and thought
he had plenty of time for it ; he was in no haste.

Finally, Sunday came round, and Landry was
among the first at mass. He entered before the bell
had rung, for he knew that it was little Fadette's habit
to arrive at that moment to make the long prayers
at which everybody laughed. He saw a little figure
kneeling in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin, the
back turned, and the face buried in the hands, as if
for greater devotion. It was Fadette's attitude, but
it was neither her cap nor her dress, and Landry
went out again to see if he could find her in the
porch, which we call the place of rags and tatters,
because of the ragged beggars who stay there dur-
ing the service.

Fadette's rags were the only ones he could not
find ; he listened to the mass without seeing her,
and it was only at the preface that, as he watched
175

FADETTE

the girl who was praying so devoutly in the chapel,
he saw her raise her head, and then recognized his
Cricket, though her dress and air were entirely new
to him. They were the same old clothes, the same
coarse woolen petticoat, the red apron, and the
linen cap untrimmed with lace ; but she had
cleaned, recut, and made over everything during
the week. Her dress was let down to a more suit-
able length over her stockings, that were very
white, as well as her cap, which had taken a
modern shape, and sat gracefully on her well-combed
black hair ; her neckerchief was new, and of a
pretty soft yellow color which set off her dark skin.
She had lengthened her bodice, and instead of look-
ing like a wooden doll dressed up, her waist was
perfectly slender and pliant. Moreover, though I
do not know with what juices of flowers and herbs
she had washed her face and hands for the past
week, her pale face and pretty little hands looked as
fresh and soft as the spring hawthorn.

Landry, seeing her so altered, let fall his prayer-
book, and, at the noise he made, little Fadette
turned quite round, and met his gaze just as he
was looking at her. She blushed a little, scarcely
pinker than the wild rose in the hedges ; but it
176

FADETTE

made her almost beautiful, especially as her black
eyes, which nobody had ever been able to criticize,
shot out such a brilliant flame that she seemed
transfigured. Landry thought again :

" She is a witch; she was ugly, and wished to
make herself pretty, and now she is beautiful by a
miracle."

He was transfixed with fear, but his fear did not
prevent his feeling such a longing to go and speak
with her that his heart bounded with impatience
until the end of the mass.

But she did not look at him again, and instead
of racing and playing with the children after her
prayers, she went off so discreetly that she hardly
gave people time to observe how much changed she
was for the better. Landry dared not follow her, par-
ticularly as Sylvinet never took his eyes off him ; but
an hour later he succeeded in making his escape,
and this time, following the guidance of his heart,
he found little Fadette tending her flock in the
sunken road which is called the Traine-an-Gendarme,
because a gendarme of the king was killed there
in the old times, as he was trying to force the poor
people to pay the tax and to do extra duty, contrary
to the terms of the law already harsh enough.
•77

CHAPTER XXII

S it was Sunday, little Fadette was neither
sewing nor spinning as she tended the
sheep. She was amusing herself with a simple
occupation which peasant children sometimes take
very seriously. She was looking for the four-
leaved clover, which is rarely found, and brings
good luck to those who are able to lay hands on it.

"Have you found it, Fanchon?" said Landry,
as soon as he reached her side.

"I have often found it," answered she, "but it
does not bring good luck, as it is said to do, and
three sprigs of it in my book have done me no
good."

Landry sat down beside her as if he wanted to
begin a conversation. But he suddenly became
much more shy than he had ever been in the pres-
ence of Madelon, and though he had much to say,
he could not find a word.
178

FADETTE

Little Fadette was shy, too ; for if he did not
speak, at least he looked at her with a strange ex-
pression. At last she asked him why he seemed to
be so surprised as he looked at her.

" It may be," she said, "because I have changed
my way of dress. In that I followed your advice ;
and I was convinced that if I wanted to appear like
a sensible girl, I had better begin to dress sensibly.
So I do not dare to show myself, for I am afraid of
having still more fault found with me, and of
making people say that I tried to make myself less
ugly without success."

"They may say what they choose," said Landry,
"but I cannot understand what you have done to
make yourself so pretty; it is the truth that you
are lovely to-day, and a man must be blind not to
see it."

"Do not laugh at me, Landry," answered little
Fadette. " They say beauty turns the head of
pretty girls, and that ugliness makes ugly girls
despair. I am used to being a scarecrow, and I
don't want to be such a fool as to think I give
pleasure. But you did not come to talk about this,
and I am waiting for you to tell me whether Mad-
elon has forgiven you."

•79

FADETTE

"1 have not come to speak of Madelon. If she
has forgiven me, I know nothing of it, and ask no
questions about it. I only know that you spoke
to her of me, and so kindly that I owe you many
thanks."

"How do you know that I spoke to her of you?
Did she tell you? If she did, you must have made
your peace."

" We have made no peace ; she and I do not care
enough about each other to be at war. I know
that you spoke to her, because she told somebody
who let me know."

Little Fadette blushed deeply, which gave her a
new charm ; for never till that day had she worn
on her cheeks that honest glow of fear and pleasure
which makes even the ugliest girls attractive; but,
at the same time, she reflected anxiously that Mad-
elon must have repeated her words, and turned
her into ridicule on account of the love she had
confessed for Landry.

"And what did Madelon say of me?" she de-
manded.

" She said that I was a great fool, and that no
girl liked me, not even little Fadette ; that little
Fadette despised me, ran away from me, and hid

1 80

FADETTE

the whole week so as not to see me, although the
whole week through I went everywhere and looked
everywhere to find little Fadette. So it is 1 who
am the general laughing-stock, Fanchon ; because
everybody knows that 1 love you, and that you do
not love me ! "

u What foolish gossip ! " exclaimed Fadette, in
astonishment ; for she was not enough of a witch
to divine that at that moment Landry was slyer
than she. " I did not think that Madelon was so
false and treacherous. But you must forgive her,
Landry ; for she speaks out of pique, and she is
piqued because she loves you."

(l Perhaps," said Landry; " and that is why you
are not piqued with me, Fanchon. You forgive
me because you despise me."

" I have not deserved that from you, Landry;
indeed, I really have not deserved it! I never was
so foolish as to tell the lies ascribed to me. I spoke
to Madelon of something quite different. What I
said was for her ear alone, but it could not injure
you. On the contrary, it should have proved to
her how much I thought of you."

"Listen, Fanchon," said Landry; "do not let
us dispute over what you said or what you did
I2* 181

FADETTE

not say. You are wise, and I want to consult you.
Last Sunday, in the Chaumois road, I felt for you,
without knowing why, a love so strong that this
whole week I have neither eaten nor slept my fill.
1 shall not try to hide anything from you, for
it would be labor lost with a girl as clever as
you. 1 confess that on Monday morning I was
very much ashamed of my love, and wanted to
run away to avoid falling again into the same
folly. But on Monday evening I had already fallen
in again so deeply that I crossed the ford at night
without fear of the sprite, though it tried to pre-
vent my looking for you ; for it was still there,
and when it paid me its mocking greeting, I re-
turned the compliment. Since Monday, every morn-
ing I feel like a fool, because they all tease me
about my liking for you ; and every evening I feel
as if I were crazy, for I know that my liking for
you is stronger than my false shame. And now,
to-day, you are so pretty and well-behaved that
everybody else will be amazed, too ; and if you go
on in this way, before two weeks are over, I shall
not only be excused for being in love with you,
but you will have many other lovers besides. Then
there will be no merit in my loving you, and you
182

FADETTE

will owe me no preference. However, if you re-
member last Sunday the feast of St. Andoche, you
will also remember that in the Chaumois road I
asked you to let me kiss you, and that I did it as
ardently as if you had never been called ugly and
disagreeable. These are my claims, Fadette. Tell
me whether they count for anything, and whether
you are angry or disposed to relent."

Little Fadette hid her face in her hands, and did
not answer ; Landry thought from what he had
overheard of her conversation with Madelon, that
she loved him ; and I must acknowledge that her
confession of love had immediately awakened his
own. But when he saw the young girl's down-
cast and sorrowful attitude, he began to fear lest
she had made up a story to Madelon, because she
had so much at heart the success of the reconcilia-
tion she was negotiating. This vexed him, and he
felt all the more in love with her. He drew away
her hands from her face, and saw she was pale as
death ; and as he was upbraiding her sharply for
making no response to his mad love for her, she
fell back on the ground, her hands clasped, and
gasping for breath ; for she was suffocating, and
dropped out of weakness.
183

CHAPTER XXIII

IAN DRY was much frightened, and chafed her
_j hands to bring her back to herself. Her
hands were cold as icicles and stiff as pieces of
wood, and he warmed and rubbed them long in
his. When she recovered her speech, she said to
him :

" I think you are laughing at me, Landry; but
there are things about which it is wrong to jest.
So I beg you to leave me alone, and never to speak
to me unless you have a favor to ask of me. In
that case, I shall always be at your service."

11 Fadette ! Fadette ! " cried Landry — tl what you
say is unkind ! It is you who have made fun of
me. You hate me, and yet you made me believe
something different."

"I?" said she, much grieved. " What have I
ever made you believe ? I offered you, and gave
you, a true friendship, such as your twin's for you,
184

FADETTE

and perhaps truer than his, for I have never been
jealous ; and instead of hindering you in your love-
affair, I tried to serve you."

"It is true," said Landry; "you have been
kind as an angel, and it is I who do wrong to
reproach you. Forgive me, Fanchon, and let me
love you as best I may. It may not be such a
tranquil affection as that I feel for my twin or my
sister Nanette, but I promise not to try to kiss you
any more, if you object."

The tide of Landry's thoughts had turned, and
he came to the conclusion that in reality little Fa-
dette felt only a very calm affection for him ; and
because he was neither conceited nor vain, he be-
came as shy and timid in her presence as if he had
not heard with his own ears all she had said of
him to pretty Madelon.

As to little Fadette, she had wit enough to un-
derstand at last that Landry was heart and soul
madly in love with her, and it was on account of
the too great pleasure it gave her that, for a
moment, she had nearly fainted. But she was
afraid of losing too quickly a happiness so quickly
won, and fearing this, she was anxious to give
Landry time enough to long for her affection.
.85

FADETTE

He stayed with her till nightfall, for though he
dared no longer tell her of his love, he was so
attracted by her, and took so much pleasure in
seeing her and listening to her, that he could not
make up his mind to leave her for a moment. He
played with the Grasshopper, who was never far
from his sister, and soon joined them. He was
good to him, and soon perceived that the poor
little fellow, who had been so maltreated by every-
body, was neither stupid nor malicious when he
met with kindness; at the end of an hour, he was
so subdued and grateful that he kissed the twin's
hands and called him dear Landry, just as he called
his sister dear Fanchon. Landry was touched, and
pitied him, and thought that he, as well as every-
body else, had been very guilty in the past toward
Mother Fadet's two poor children, who needed a
little love only to make them the best in the land.

The next few days Landry succeeded in seeing
little Fadette, sometimes in the evening, when he
was able to have a little conversation with her, and
sometimes in the daytime, when he met her in
the fields ; and though she never stopped long, as
she neither could nor would fail in her duty, he
was happy to say a few earnest words to her, and
186

FADETTE

to look at her with adoring eyes. She kept on
being nice in her speech and well-behaved in her
manners toward everybody ; so other people soon
discovered the change, and altered their own tone
and manners toward her. As she no longer did
anything unfitting, no one insulted her ; and when
she found she was no longer insulted, she felt no
more temptation to provoke people or call them
names.

fj5ut as public opinion does not change so quickly
as our resolutions7|it was destined that much time
should elapse before the general scorn and aversion
she inspired should give place to esteem and good-
will. You will hear later how this came about;
at present, you can easily imagine that nobody
paid much attention to little Fadette's reformation.
Four or five of those good old men and women who
look indulgently on the young lives growing up
around them, and are considered in return as the
fathers and mothers of the neighborhood, some-
times talked under the walnut-trees of Cosse, and
watched the swarm of young people and children
dancing and throwing quoits. These old people
said :

"That boy will make a fine soldier, if he con-
187

FADETTE

tinues as he is now, for he is too well made to be
exempted from duty ; this fellow will be as clever
and knowing as his father ; that other will be as
wise and calm as his mother ; young Lucette over
there will certainly be a good farm-servant; big
Louise will be sure to please ; and as for little
Marion, only let her grow up, and she will be as
sensible as the others."

When they discussed little Fadette in her turn,
and passed judgment upon her, they said :

"There she is, running away quickly, without
stopping to dance or sing. No one has seen her
since the feast of St. Andoche. She must have
been greatly disgusted by the rudeness of the chil-
dren who pulled off her cap in the dance ; for she
has changed her great coif, and now she is really
no worse looking than other girls."

" Have you noticed how white her skin has
grown lately?" said Mother Couturier. "Her
face used to be so blotched with red that it looked
like a quail's egg ; but last time I saw her I was
astonished to observe how white she had grown,
and she was so pale that I even asked her if she
had not had the fever. Looking at her now, we
can imagine that she will improve ; and who

188

FADETTE

knows? — plenty of ugly girls have become pretty
at sixteen or seventeen."

"And then they grow more sensible," said Father
Naubin ; "and they learn how to dress becomingly,
and how to please. It is really time for the Cricket
to find out that she is not a boy. Heavens ! we
all thought that she would turn out to be the dis-
grace of the town ; but she will reform and settle
down like other girls. She will feel it necessary to
make amends for a sinful mother, and you will see
that nobody will be able to say anything against
her."

11 May Heaven grant it," said Mother Courtillet ;
" for it is a bad thing for a girl to look like a
loose horse ; but I, too, have hopes of Fadette, for I
met her the day before yesterday, and, instead of
walking behind me, as usual, to imitate my lame-
ness, she spoke to me, and asked after my health
very politely."

"That little girl whom you are all speaking of
is more foolish than she is malicious," said Father
Henri. " Her heart is not bad, I can tell you, and
the proof is that she has often kept my grand-
children in the fields with her, out of pure kind-
ness, when my daughter was ill ; and she took
189

FADETTE

such good care of them that they did not want to
leave her."

"I have heard," said Mother Couturier, "that
one of Father Barbeau's twins was infatuated with
her on the day of St. Andoche. Is it true?"

"Come," answered Father Naubin; "you must
not take that seriously. It was only a childish
fancy, and none of the Barbeaus are stupid, father,
mother, or children. Can you not understand?"

Thus they talked of little Fadette; but, for the
most part, nobody thought of her, for she was
hardly ever seen.

J 90

CHAPTER XXIV

THERE was one person, however, who saw
her often and thought a great cbal of her,
and that was Landry Barbeau. He was like a crazed
creature when he could not speak with her at his
leisure ; but as soon as he had been a minute in
her company, he grew calm and contented, because
she soothed him and taught him to be reasonable.
She played with him a little game which may
have been slightly tinged with coquetry ; at least
he thought so ; but as her motive was honorable,
and she was unwilling to accept his love until he
had perfectly considered the matter, he could not
complain. She could not suspect him of trying to
deceive her on the strength of his love, for it was a
kind of love rarely found among people who live
in the country, as they are less passionate in their
affections than those who dwell in cities. Lamlry's
character, too, was less passionate than that of many
191

FADETTE

others, and nobody could have guessed that his
wings would be so severely singed in the flame of
the candle. He was careful to hide his secret, and
anybody who had discovered it would have been
amazed. But when little Fadette saw he was sud-
denly and entirely hers, she feared lest the blaze
might be only of straw, or lest she herself might
catch fire foolishly, and that their love-affair might
go further than propriety allowed, in as much as
they were still children — too young to be married,
at least according to the dictates of prudence and
of parents ;l'for love is impatient, and when it is
once kindled in the hearts of two young people,
it would be a miracle if it should wait for the
approbation of others. \

Little Fadette had been outwardly a child longer
than most girls, but she possessed good sense and
a strength of will much in advance of her age.
To allow this, her mind must have been of heroic
force ; for her heart was ardent, and perhaps even
more ardent than Landry's. She loved him to
madness, and yet she behaved with singular dis-
cretion ; for though by day, by night, and at all
hours she thought of him, and burned with im-
patience to see him, and with desire to caress him,

192

FADETTE

as soon as she saw him, she became calm, spoke
sensibly, pretended not to know what passionate
love was, and permitted him no favor beyond a
shake of the hand.

And though Landry was so bewitched by her
that he might have lost his self-control when they
were together in lonely places, or under cover of
the darkness of night, he was yet in such fear of
her displeasure, and was so uncertain that she really
loved him, that he spent his time with her as
innocently as if she had been his sister, and he
Jeanet the little Grasshopper.

To distract his mind from ideas she was unwill-
ing to encourage, she instructed him in the things
she knew, in which her wit and cleverness had far
outdone her grandmother's teaching. She made
no mysteries with Landry, and as he had always
been a little in awe of witchcraft, she took all
possible pains to make him understand that the
devil had nothing to do with the secret of her
knowledge.

"You see, Landry," said she to him one day,

"there is no such thing as the intervention of the

evil spirit. There is but one Spirit, and it is good, [y

for it is God's. Lucifer is the invention of the

13 ~~~>*93 ' ' •

FADETTE

priest, and the hobgoblin is the invention of all

the old crones of the country. When I was a child
I believed in it all, and was afraid of my grand-
mother's evil spells ; but she laughed at me, for it
is a truth that if anybody is skeptical, it is that
person who is trying to impose on others, and no-
body believes less in Satan than the sorcerers who
invoke him on all occasions. They know that they
have never seen him, and that they have never
had the least assistance from him. Those who are
foolish enough to believe in him and to call upon
him, have never been able to make him come.
For instance, there is the miller of the Passe-au-
Chiens, who, as my grandmother has told me, used
to go off to the cross-roads with a big cudgel to
call up the devil, and to give him, as he expected,
a good thrashing. At night he was heard crying
out : ' Are you coming, old wolf? Are you coming,
mad dog? Are you coming, hobgoblin of a devil?'
But the hobgoblin never came, and the miller
nearly went mad with vanity ; for he thought the
devil was afraid of him."

" But," Landry would say, "it is not exactly
Christian to disbelieve in the devil, my little
Fanchon."

194

FADETTE

tl I cannot argue about it," she answered ; u but
if he exists, I am very sure that he has no power
to come upon earth to harm us, and to require our
souls of us, to steal them from God. He could not
be so insolent; and since the earth is the Lord's,
the Lord alone can govern it and the men that
live upon it."

So Landry recovered from his foolish terror, and
it excited his admiration to see what a good Chris-
tian little Fadette was in all her thoughts and
prayers. Even her piety was more attractive than
that of other people. She loved God with all the
fire of her heart, for her intelligence was always
keen, and her heart always tender ; and when she
spoke to Landry of her love toward God, he was
astonished that he had been taught to repeat prayers
and to follow practices which he had never thought
of understanding, and that though his attitude to-
ward them had always been respectful, his heart
had never been kindled with love for his Creator,
like little Fadette's.

»95

CHAPTER XXV

BY walking and talking with her, he learned
the properties of herbs and recipes of all
kinds for the cure of man and beast. He was soon
able to try the effect of his remedies on one of
Father Caillaud's cows, which had eaten too much
green food, and was swollen up in consequence.
After the veterinary had left her, saying that she
had but an hour to live, Landry gave her a potion
that little Fadette had taught him to compound.
He did it without anybody's knowledge, and when
the laborers, who were much vexed by the loss of
such a fine cow, came in the morning to throw her
body in a ditch, the swelling had almost entirely
disappeared ; her eye was bright, and they found
her on her legs, beginning to sniff at her food.
Another time a colt was bitten by a viper, and
Landry, following faithfully little Fadette's teach-
ing, succeeded in curing it speedily. Again, too,
196

FADETTE

he tested a remedy for hydrophobia upon a dog at
the Priche, and he cured it before it had bitten
anybody. As Landry carefully concealed his ac-
quaintance with little Fadette, he did not boast of
his knowledge, and the cures he wrought on cat-
tle were attributed solely to the great care he be-
stowed upon them. But Father Caillaud, who, like
every good farmer, understood something of the
matter, was surprised, and said:

"Father Barbeau has no skill in cattle-raising,
and I may even call him unfortunate; for he lost
several animals last year, and it was not the first
time. But Landry has a happy knack, and that is
something one is born with. A man either has it
or does not have it ; and even when people go to
study in the schools, like the veterinary surgeons,
they learn nothing unless they are born clever.
Now, I tell you that Landry is clever, and that he
can invent the right remedies. He has a natural
gift, and it will be worth more to him than capital
in the management of a farm."

Father Caillaud did not speak like a credulous or

ignorant man, only he was mistaken in attributing

a natural gift to Landry. Landry had no gift, save

that of being painstaking and intelligent in the

I3* 197

FADETTE

remedies which had been taught him. Still, a
natural gift is no fable, since little Fadette possessed
it ; and since, by aid of the few simple lessons her
grandmother had given her, she divined and dis-
covered the virtues which God has placed in cer-
tain herbs and in certain methods of using them, as
readily as if she were inventing them herself. For
this she needed no witchcraft, and she was right to
deny the imputation; but she had an observing
mind, which enabled her to make comparisons and
careful experiments; and no one can doubt that is a
natural gift. Father Caillaud went still further, and
affirmed that such and such a herdsman or laborer is
more or less lucky, and that by the mere virtue of
his presence in the stable he helps or harms the
animals. However, as there is always a grain of
truth in the most superstitious beliefs, it must be
acknowledged that careful management, cleanliness,
and conscientious toil have an especial power to
bring success where carelessness and stupidity bring
misfortune.

As Landry had always a taste and fancy for such
things, his love for Fadette increased with the grat-
itude he owed her for her teaching, and with the
great admiration he felt for the young girl's clever-

198

FADETTE

ness. He was thankful to her now that she had
forbidden his making love to her in the walks and
talks they had together; and he now recognized
that she had more at heart the best interests and
usefulness of her lover, than her own pleasure in
allowing him to pay her his court and flatter her
continually, as his first desire had prompted him
to do.

Landry was soon so deep in love that he had
quite overcome all feeling of shame incident to the
possible discovery of his love for a girl who had
the reputation of being ugly, ill-tempered, and
badly brought up. If he still took precautions, it
was because of his twin, whose jealousy he well
knew, and who had already made a great effort to
be reconciled to Landry's attachment to Madelon —
an attachment which had been indeed very slight
and unimpassioned compared to that he now felt
for Fanchon Fadet.

But if Landry loved too warmly to think of pru-
dence, little Fadette, on the contrary, was naturally
inclined toward mystery ; and, moreover, she was
unwilling that Landry should undergo the ordeal
of his friends' raillery. Little Fadette, in short,
loved him too much to be the cause of trouble in his
199

FADETTE

family, and therefore exacted from him such entire
secrecy that nearly a year elapsed before their affec-
tion was discovered. Landry had gradually taught
Sylvinet not to keep such strict guard over his steps
and actions ; and the country, which is sparsely in-
habited and thickly wooded, is very propitious to
secret loves.

When Sylvinet saw that Landry thought no more
of Madelon, though he had accepted the division
of his brother's affection as a necessary evil, made
more tolerable by Landry's bashfulness and the girl's
discretion, he was rejoiced to find that Landry was
in no haste to withdraw his heart to bestow it upon
a woman ; and as he no longer felt any jealousy, he
left him more freedom in his walks and amusements
on feast-days and holidays. Landry wanted no
pretexts for going and coming, especially on Sun-
day evenings, when he left the Twinnery at an
early hour, and never reached the Priche till mid-
night, and he found this very easy, for he had asked
to have a little bed made for him in the capharnion.
You may perhaps correct me for this word, because
the schoolmaster objects to it, and wishes every-
body to say capharnaiim ; but if he knows the
word, he does not know what it means, for I have
200

FADETTE

been obliged to explain to him that it is a place in
the barn, near the stables, where they keep yokes,
chains, horseshoes, and tools of all kinds used for
the farm animals and for the cultivation of the
earth. Thus Landry could go home at any hour
he chose without disturbing anybody ; and he
always had his Sundays to himself until Monday
morning, because Father Caillaud and his eldest
son, who were very judicious men and never went
to the tavern or drank to excess on holidays, were
accustomed on such days to assume the whole
charge and management of the farm ; so that all the
young people in the house, who, as they said,
worked harder than they did on week-days, should
be free to frolic and amuse themselves according
to God's decree.

In the winter, when the nights are so cold that
it would be difficult to talk of love in the open
fields, Landry and little Fadette found a safe refuge
in Jacot's tower, an old deserted dove-cote which
the pigeons had abandoned years ago, but which
was well closed and protected. It belonged to
Father Caillaud's farm, and he even still made use
of it for storing the surplus of his crops ; and since
Landry kept the key, and the tower stands on the
201

FADETTE

boundaries of the farm of the Priche, in the middle
of a walled clover-field, nobody but the devil him-
self could have interrupted the interviews of our
two young lovers. When the weather was mild,
they roamed about the groves, which are young
woods ready for felling, and are scattered all over
the country. They afford excellent shelter for rob-
bers and lovers ; and as we have no robbers in our
country, lovers take advantage of them, and find in
them a safe and agreeable retreat.

202

CHAPTER XXVI

AS no secret can last always, it happened that
L one fine Sunday, as Sylvinet passed along
the cemetery wall, he heard the voice of his twin,
who was speaking at a distance of a few steps from
him. Landry was speaking in a low tone ; but
Sylvinet was so familiar with his voice, that he
would have guessed his meaning even if he had
not heard his words.

"Why do you not want to dance?" Landry was
saying to somebody whom Sylvinet could not see.
"It is such a long time since you have been seen
stopping after mass that no one will criticize my
dancing with you, as my acquaintance with you
has been almost forgotten. They will not think
that I do it out of love, but out of politeness, and
because I am curious to find out whether you can
still dance well after so long an interval."

" No, Landry, no," answered a voice which Syl-
203

FADETTE

vinet did not recognize. It was long since he had
heard it, as little Fadette had kept herself aloof from
everybody, and particularly from him.

"No," said she; "it is much better for me not
to attract attention ; and if you danced with me once
you would want to begin again every Sunday, and
that would be more than enough to make people
talk of us. Believe what I have always told you,
Landry : the day when our love is discovered will
be the beginning of our sorrows. Let me go home,
and after you have passed a part of the day with
your family and twin, you may come to meet me
wherever we shall agree."

"It is so melancholy never to dance," said Lan-
dry ; "you used to be so fond of dancing, my dar-
ling, and you danced so well ! How much pleasure
I should feel in taking your hand and holding you
in my arms, and in knowing that you, who are so
graceful and light of foot, dance with me alone ! "

"That is just what I could not do," answered
she. " But I see that you long to dance, dear Lan-
dry, and I do not see why you have given it up.
Do go and dance a little ; it will make me happy
to think that you are enjoying yourself, and I shall
wait for you more patiently."
204

FADETTE

''Oh, you have too much patience," answered
Landry in a voice that showed he himself had
none; "but I should rather cut off my legs than
dance with girls I do not like, and whom I would
not kiss for a hundred francs! "

" Very well, if I danced," said little Fadette, " I
should have to dance with other young men be-
sides you, and let them kiss me, too."

" Go home, then; go home as quickly as you
can," said Landry: "I do not wish anybody to
kiss you."

Sylvinet heard nothing further than the sound
of retracing footsteps, and in order to escape being
found eavesdropping by his brother, who was ap-
proaching, he slipped hastily into the cemetery,
and let him pass by.

This discovery was a knife-thrust to Sylvinet's
heart. He did not seek to discover the name of
the girl whom Landry loved so passionately. It was
enough for him to know that Landry had deserted
him for somebody else, and that this other person
was in possession of all the thoughts which were
hidden from him, and that he was no longer in
his brother's confidence.

"He must mistrust me," thought he, "and this
205

FADETTE

girl he loves must try to induce him to fear and
detest me. I am no longer surprised that he is
always so bored at home, and so restless when I
want to go to walk with him. I gave it up, think-
ing that he had a fancy for being alone ; but now
I shall take great care not to bother him. I shall
not say anything to him, for he would be angry
with me for finding out what he was not willing
to intrust me with. I shall suffer alone, and he
will be delighted to get rid of me."

Sylvinet did as he determined, and he even car-
ried his resolution further than was necessary ;
for not only did he no longer try to keep his
brother with him, but in order to avoid putting
him under any restraint, he was always the first to
leave the house, and went off to indulge in solitary
reveries, never taking long walks in the country.

" For," thought he, " if I happened to meet
Landry, he would think that I was spying him,
and would make me feel that I was in his way."

So little by little his old sorrow, which had been
almost healed, returned upon him so heavily and
persistently that it was not slow to show itself in
his face. His mother chided him gently; but as
he was ashamed to acknowledge at eighteen the
206

FADETTE

same weaknesses of mind he had known at fifteen,
he. was always unwilling to confess the trouble
which was consuming him.

It was this that saved him from illness; for God
abandons only those who abandon themselves, and
whoever has the courage to shut up his sorrow
within his own heart is stronger to fight against it
than he who complains. The poor twin became
habitually sad and pale, and had from time to time
attacks of fever; and though he continued to grow
somewhat taller, he remained slight and delicate
in person. He was not very steady at his work,
but it was not his fault, for he knew that work
was good for him ; it was enough for him to vex
his father by his melancholy, and he did not wish
to irritate and wrong him by his faint-heartedness.
So he set to work, and toiled because he was angry
with himself. He often attempted to do more
than he could stand, and the next day he was so
weary that he could make no further exertion.

" He will never be a strong workman," said
Father Barbeau ; " but he works as much as he can,
and when he can, and does not spare himself.
That is why I do not wish to hire him out to other
masters; for his fear of a sharp reprimand and the
207

FADETTE

little strength God has given him would soon be
his death, and I should have to reproach myself
all my life."

Mother Barbeau approved these reasons, and did
all she could to cheer Sylvinet. She consulted
several doctors in regard to his health, and some of
them told her to take great care of him and give
him nothing but milk to drink, because he was
delicate ; others said that he must be set to work,
and must drink plenty of good wine, because being
delicate he needed strengthening. Mother Barbeau
did not know which one to believe, as is always
the case when people go to many doctors.

Fortunately, owing to her indecision, she fol-
lowed nobody's advice, and Sylvinet was allowed
to walk along the path which God had opened for
him, without meeting anything to make him turn
to the right or the left ; and he dragged his little
burden without being too much oppressed by it,
up to the moment when Landry's love-affair was
made public, and Sylvinet found his own trouble
increased by all that his brother had to suffer.

208

CHAPTER XXVII

MADELON was the first to detect the secret;
and though she made the discovery unin-
tentionally, she did not fail to turn it to bad ac-
count. She was consoled for losing Landry, and
as she had not wasted much time in loving him,
she had not needed much in which to forget
him. Nevertheless, she nourished in her heart a
slight grudge, which needed only an opportunity
to show itself; for it is true that with women
pique lasts longer than love.

It all happened thus: Pretty Madelon, who was
renowned for her discreet behavior and haughty
manners toward young men, was none the less a
flirt at the bottom, and not half so true and faith-
ful in her affections as the poor Cricket, of whom
so much evil had been spoken and predicted. Mad-
elon had already had two admirers, not counting
Landry, and she was making up her mind to accept
T4 209

FADETTE

a third, who was her cousin, the youngest son of
Father Caillaud of the Priche. She even liked him
so well that when she found that the last youth
whom she had encouraged kept close watch of her,
and was in danger of making an explosion, she
did not know where to find a safe refuge for her
interviews with her new love, and so finally con-
sented to chat with him in the very dove-cote
where Landry and little Fadette had their blame-
less meetings.

The young Caillaud had searched everywhere for
the key of the dove-cote, but he had not found it,
because Landry kept it in his pocket, and he had
not dared ask anybody for it, because he had no good
reasons to give in explanation of his request. No-
body but Landry knew where it was, and young
Caillaud, believing it to be lost, or that it was
in his father's bunch of keys, felt no scruple about
beating in the door. The day he did this he
found Landry and Fadette in the tower, and the
four lovers were so much abashed at seeing one
another that they were all equally bound to keep
the secret and to divulge nothing.

But Madelon felt a rush of rage and jealousy when
she found that Landry, who was now one of the
2 10

FADETTE

best-looking and most highly esteemed young men
in the country, had kept such perfect faith with
little Fadette, ever since the day of St. Andoche;
and she resolved to take her revenge. To ac-
complish her object without confiding in young
Caillaud, who was an honest man, and would have
refused to lend his hand, she called to her assistance
several young girls among her friends, who were
also somewhat vexed by Landry's apparent slight
in no longer asking them to dance, and they all
set to watching little Fadette so strictly that before
long they were quite sure of her love for Landry.
As soon as they had espied the two, and seen them
together a few times, they made a great noise
through the country, saying to whomever would
listen — and God knows whether slander ever
needs ears to hear or tongue to tell — that Landry
had contracted an undue intimacy with little
Fadette.

Then all the feminine part of the young popu-
lation took up the matter ; for when a good-look-
ing and well-to-do fellow pays attention to one
girl, all the others consider it an insult to them-
selves; and if there is any fault to be found with
her, they never miss the opportunity. It must be

21 I

FADETTE

admitted, also, that when women undertake a
piece of mischief, it goes fast and far.

Two weeks after the adventure in Jacot's tower,
without any mention of the tower or of Made-
Ion, who had been very careful not to put herself
forward, and had even pretended to receive as
news what she herself had secretly discovered,
everybody, big and little, old and young, knew
the loves of Landry the twin and Fanchon the
Cricket.

The report reached the ears of Mother Barbeau,
who was much troubled and did not like to tell
her husband. Father Barbeau, hov/ever, learned
it elsewhere, and Sylvinet, who had carefully kept
his brother's secret, had the annoyance of finding
out that everybody knew it.

One evening, when Landry was just about to
leave the Twinnery at an early hour, as was his
wont, his father said to him, in the presence of
his mother, his eldest sister, and his twin :

" Do not be in such haste to leave us, Landry,
for I have something to say to you ; I am waiting
for your godfather, for I wish to ask an' explana-
tion of you before all those members of the family
who are most interested in your welfare."
212

FADETTE

When the godfather, who was Uncle Landriche,
had arrived, Father Barbeau began :

" What I have to say to you will cause you some
mortification, Landry, and it is not without some
mortification and much regret myself that I find
myself obliged to cross-question you before the
family. But I trust that this mortification may be
of use to you, and cure you of a fancy which would
certainly turn to your disadvantage.

" It seems that you have made an acquaintance
which dates back to the last feast of St. Andoche,
nearly a year ago. I heard of it at the time, for
it was most extraordinary to see you dancing all
day with a girl who is the ugliest, slovenliest, and of
the worst repute in our country. I wished to pay
no attention to it, for I thought that you had merely
amused yourself, and 1 did not exactly approve such
a diversion ; for if it is wrong to associate with bad
people, it is still worse to add to their humiliation
and to the burden of universal dislike they have
to bear. I neglected speaking to you about it, be-
cause, when I saw you look so depressed the next
day, I was convinced that you were regretting what
you had done, and would not fall into the same error
a second time. But now, this last week, I have
x4* 213

FADETTE

heard something entirely different ; and though the
report comes from trustworthy persons, I am un-
willing to believe it, unless you are unable to deny
it. If I have wronged you by my suspicions, you
must attribute it to my interest in your welfare,
and to my responsibility for your conduct ; and if
the whole story is a falsehood, you will make me
very happy by giving me your word, and by assur-
ing me that people are mistaken in their efforts to
lower you in my esteem."

" Father," said Landry, " will you be so kind
as to tell me what it is of which you accuse me,
and I will answer you truthfully, and according to
the respect I owe you."

" I think I have said enough to you to give you
to understand, Landry, that you are accused of
carrying on a dishonorable intercourse with the
granddaughter of Mother Fadet, who is a very bad
old woman, not to speak of the unfortunate girl's
own mother, who disgracefully abandoned her
husband, her children, and her country, to fol-
low the camp. You are accused of wandering
about everywhere with little Fadette, so that I am
inclined to fear that she has entangled you in a
wrongful love-affair, of which you may be obliged
214

FADETTE

to repent all your life. Do you understand at
last ? »

" I understand, dear Father," answered Landry;
" and allow me, please, to ask one question before
I answer you. Is it because of her family, or only
because of herself, that you consider Fanchon Fa-
det as an unfortunate acquaintance for me?"

"For both reasons, of course," said Father Bar-
beau, with rather more severity than he had shown
at first ; for he had expected to see Landry much
abashed, and found him self-possessed and resolute.
" First," he went on, " it is a disgrace for the girl
to come of such bad stock ; and no family as much
esteemed and honored as mine would consent to
ally itself with the Fadet family. In the next place,
nobody respects or trusts little Fadette herself. We
have watched her grow up, and we all know what
she is good for. I have heard, and I admit that I my-
self have noticed several times this last year, that she
is better behaved, that she no longer runs about with
the little boys, and has stopped saying rude things
to people. You see that I am anxious to be strictly
just. But that is not enough to make me believe
that a girl v/ho has been so ill brought up can ever
make a respectable wife ; and knowing her grand-
215

FADETTE

mother as I do, I have every reason to believe that
the whole thing is a preconcerted intrigue for the
purpose of extracting promises from you, and bring-
ing shame and confusion upon you. People even
talk openly of consequences attendant upon the
young girl's wrong-doing ; and though I am unwill-
ing to believe such a report lightly, I should be
very much pained if it were true, because you would
certainly be suspected and considered responsible,
and you would end by finding yourself involved in
scandal and a lawsuit."

Landry had made up his mind from the first to
keep his temper and to answer quietly, but he now
lost patience. He turned red as fire, and said, spring-
ing up from his chair:

" Father, the people who told you that lied like
dogs! They have insulted Fanchon Fadet so out-
rageously that if I had them here they should be
obliged to fight with me to the death. Tell them that
they are cowards and heathens ; let them come to say
to my face what they have treacherously insinuated
behind my back, and we shall have fair play!"

" Do not fly into such a passion, Landry," said
Sylvinet, overcome with grief. "Our father does
not accuse you of having wronged the girl ; but he
216

FADETTE

fears that she may have got into trouble with some-
body else, and that by going about with you morn-
ing, noon, and night, she is trying to make people
believe it is you who owe her reparation."

21?

CHAPTER XXVIII

LANDRY was somewhat soothed by the voice
^ of his twin, but he could not allow such words
to pass without taking them up.

''Brother/' he said, "you understand nothing
of all this. You have always been prejudiced against
little Fadette, and you do not know her at all. I
care very little about what may be said of me, but
I cannot allow a word to be spoken against her,
and I wish to set my father and mother at rest by
telling them myself that the earth does not hold
another girl as honest, as wise, as gocd, and as dis-
interested as that girl is. If she is so unlucky as
to be ill-connected, she deserves the more praise
for being what she is ; and I could never have be-
lieved that any Christian soul would blame her for
the misfortune of her birth."

"It seems that you are blaming me, Landry,"
said Father Barbeau, rising too, to show that he
218

FADETTE

would not allow any more words on the subject.
" I see by your ill humor that you care more for
Fadette than I could have wished. Since you are
neither sorry nor ashamed, let us say no more about
it. I shall reflect on what I must do to cure you
of this piece of youthful folly. It is time now for
you to go home to your master."

" You must not go off like that," cried Sylvinet,
holding back his brother, who had turned to go.
" Father, Landry is so grieved to have displeased
you that he can find nothing to say. Forgive him,
and kiss him, or he will cry all night long, and
your anger will be too great a punishment for him."

Sylvinet was crying, Mother Barbeau was crying,
and the eldest sister and Uncle Landriche too. No-
body had dry eyes except Father Barbeau and Lan-
dry, and their hearts were bursting. Still, they
kissed each other at the request of the others ; and
Father Barbeau exacted no promise from his son,
as he knew that where love is at stake such prom-
ises are apt to be hazardous, and he was unwilling
to compromise his authority. He gave Landry to
understand, however, that he would not allow the
matter to drop, but would return to the charge.
Landry went away wrathful and despairing. Syl-
219

FADETTE

vinet wanted to follow him, but he dared not, as-
he was certain that his brother would go to confide
his troubles to little Fadette; and so he went to bed
in such a melancholy humor that he sighed all
night, and dreamed of misfortune in the family.

Landry went directly to little Fadette's house,
and tapped at the door. Mother Fadet had now
grown so deaf that when she had once fallen asleep
nothing roused her ; and ever since Landry had
known that his secret was discovered, he cculd
only talk with Fanchon in the evening, in the room
where both the old woman and little Jeanet were
sleeping. Even this was a great risk, for the old
witch could not endure him, and would have been
more apt to put him out of doors with a broom-
stick than to receive him with politeness. Landry
told his trouble to Fadette, and found her perfectly
brave and resigned. At first she tried to persuade
him that it would be for his best interest to take
back his heart into his own keeping, and to think
no mere of her. But when she saw that he grew
more and more distressed and rebellious, she in-
duced him to submit by allowing him to hope in
the future.

"Listen, Landry," said she to him; "I have
220

FADETTE

always foreseen what has just happened, and I have
often considered what we should do in the present
case. Your father is not in the wrong, and I am
not angry with him; for it is his love for you that
makes him fear your being in love with a girl as
undeserving as I. I am ready to forgive him for
his pride, and for the slight injustice he does me ;
for we must agree that I was a madcap in my
childhood, and you yourself found fault with me
the first day you began to care for me. Even if
I have cured myself of some of my failings in the
course of this last year, it is not a long enough
time to inspire your father with confidence, as he
himself said to you to-day. Still more time must
pass, and little by little the prejudices against me
will subside and the villainous lies they tell of me
will die away of themselves. Your father and
mother will sec that 1 am an honest girl, and that
I am not trying to corrupt you or to cheat you out
of money. They will recognize my love for you
as honorable, and we shall be able to see each
other and speak together openly. In the mean
time, you must obey your father, who is certain to
forbid your associating with me."

11 I can never have so much courage," said Lan-

221

FADETTE

dry; "I should rather throw myself into the
river."

" Very well, if you cannot, I shall have it for
you," said little Fadette ; "1 shall go away, and
shall leave the country for a little while. There is
a good situation in town which has been open to
me for two months past. My grandmother is now
so deaf and old that she hardly pays any more at-
tention to compounding and selling her medicines,
and she is unable to give any more consultations.
She has a relation, a very good woman, who offers
to come and live with her, and will take excellent
care of her and of my poor Grasshopper."

Here little Fadette's voice choked for a moment
at the idea of leaving the child, whom, next to
Landry, she loved best in the world; but she took
courage and said :

"Now he is strong enough to do without me.
He is going to make his first communion, and he
will be so interested in going to catechism with
the other children that he will forget his grief at
losing me. You must have observed how good he
has grown to be, and that he no longer flies into
passion with the other children. In short, this
must be, — Landry, do not you see? I must give

222

FADETTE

people time to forget me, for just now I am the
object of much anger and jealousy in this place.
After a year or two spent at a distance, when I
come home with good recommendations and a fair
name, which I can acquire elsewhere more easily
than here, nobody will torment us any more, and
we shall be better friends than ever."

Landry would not listen to this plan ; he gave
way to despair, and went home to the Priche in a
state of mind which would have extorted pity from
his worst enemy.

Two days afterward, as he was busy with the
tubs for the vintage, Cadet Caillaud said to him:

11 I am sure that you are angry with me, Landry ;
for you have not spoken to me for some time.
You probably believe that it is I who spread the
report of your love-affair with little Fadette, and
1 am sorry that you can think me capable of such
meanness. As true as God is in heaven, I never
breathed a word, and I am grieved that you should
have so much to suffer ; for 1 have always thought
the world of you, and I never did any harm to
little Fadette. I am even willing to acknowledge
that I respect the girl ever since our meeting in the
dove-cote ; for she has had ample opportunity to
223

FADETTE

gossip, and yet she has been so discreet that no-
body has heard a word from her lips. She might
have made use of what she knew, however, if it
were only to take her revenge on Madelon, whom
she well knows to be the author of all the scandal,
but she has not done so ; and I see, Landry, that
we must not trust to appearance or reputation.
Little Fadette passed for a bad girl, but she has
turned out to be most kind ; Madelon, who passed
for a good girl, has proved false, not only to Fadette
and to you, but also to me, and at present I see
great reason to complain of her want of faith."

Landry readily accepted the explanations of Cadet
Caillaud, who did his best to console his friend in
his distress.

" People have been very unkind to you, poor
Landry," said he, as he ended; "but you must
take comfort in little Fadette's good conduct. She
does right to go away, to put an end to the disturb-
ance in your family, and I have just told her so, as
I said good-by to her on the road."

" What do you mean, Cadet?" exclaimed Landry;
" is she going away ? Has she gone ? " -

" Did you not know it?" said Cadet. " I sup.
posed that it was agreed between you, and that
224

FADETTE

you did not go with her to avoid criticism. But
she is certainly going; she passed right by our
house not more than a quarter of an hour ago, and
she was carrying her little bundle under her arm.
She was going to Chateau-Meillant, and by this
time she cannot be farther off than Vieille-Ville, or
the hill of Urmont."

Landry left his goad leaning up against the yoke
of his oxen, started off, and never stopped till he
caught up with little Fadette in the sandy road
which goes down from the vineyard of Urmont to
Fremelaine.

There, exhausted by grief, and by his long run,
he sank down across the path without the power
of speech, making signs to the girl that if she meant
to leave him, she must tread upon his prostrate
body.

After he had somewhat recovered, little Fadette
said to him :

" I wished to spare you this trouble, dear Lan-
dry, and now you are doing all you can to take
away my strength. Be a man, and do not try to
rob me of my courage ; I need more than you im-
agine, and when I think that poor little Jeanet is
crying and looking for me at this very moment, I
J5 225

FADETTE

feel so weak that I am ready to dash my head against
these stones. Ah ! Landry, I beg of you to help
me instead of turning me aside from my duty ; for
if I do not go away to-day, I shall never go, and
we shall be lost."

"Fanchon! Fanchon! you do not need any such
great courage," answered Landry. " You are only
regretting a child who will soon forget you because
he is a child. You do not care for my despair ;
you do not know what love is ; you feel none for
me, and you will soon forget me, so that perhaps
you will never come back."

"I shall come back, Landry; I take God to wit-
ness that I shall come back in a year at the soonest,
and in two years at the latest, and that I shall re-
member you so well that 1 shall never have another
friend or another lover."

"It may be that you will never have another
such friend, Fanchon, because you will never find
one as obedient as I ; but I cannot tell about another
lover; who can answer for it?"

" 1 can answer for it."

"You know nothing about it yourself, Fadette;
you have never known what love is, and when it
comes to you, you will never remember your poor
226

FADETTE

Landry. Ah ! if you had loved me as I love you,
you would never leave me like this."

"Do you think so, Landry?" said little Fadette,
looking at him sadly and seriously. " Perhaps you
do not know what you are saying. I myself believe
that I should be more easily governed by love than
friendship."

11 If you were really governed by love, I should
not suffer so much. O Fanchon ! if it were only
love, I believe that I should be almost happy in
the midst of misery. I should trust in your word,
and should hope in the future ; I should have
courage like yours, — I should, indeed! But it is
not love; you have often told me so, and I have
observed it in your quiet ways with me."

" So you think it is not love," said little Fadette ;
" you are quite sure of it? "

As she still looked at him, the tears filled her
eyes and rolled down over her cheeks, and she
smiled a very strange smile.

" O my God ! my God ! " cried Landry, taking
her into his arms, " if I should be mistaken ! "

" I know that you are mistaken, indeed," an-
swered little Fadette, smiling and crying at the
same time. u I know that since she was thirteen
227

FADETTE

years old, the poor Cricket has singled out Landry,
and has never thought of anybody else. I know
that when she followed him through the fields and
along the roads, pursuing him with nonsense and
raillery in order to oblige him to pay attention to
her, she did not know what she was doing, or
what it was that attracted her toward him. I know
that when she set out one day in search of Sylvinet,
because of Landry's anxiety, and found him on the
river's brink absorbed in thought, and holding a lit-
tle lamb on his knees, she tried a little witchcraft on
Landry so that Landry should be forced into owing
her gratitude. I know that when she insulted him
at the ford of the Roulettes, it was because she felt
vexed and grieved that he had never spoken to her
since. I know that when she wanted to dance
with him, it was because she was wild about him,
and hoped to please him by her graceful dancing.
1 know that when she wept in the Chaumois road,
it was out of repentance and sorrow for having
caused him pain. I know very well, too, that when
he wanted to kiss her and she forbade him, when he
spoke to her of love and she answered him coolly,
it was because she feared to lose his love by grant-
ing his desire too quickly. In short, I know that
228

FADETTE

if she breaks her heart by going away, it is because
she hopes to come back worthy of him in every-
body's opinion, and to become his wife without
bringing his family to humiliation and distress."
This time Landry thought that he would lose
his senses altogether. He iaughed, he shouted,
and he cried ; he kissed Fadette's hands and dress,
and he would have kissed her feet had she allowed
him ; but she raised him up and gave him a true-
love kiss which nearly brought him to his death,
for it was the first he had received from her or
from any other girl ; and then, as he sank half
fainting on the side of the road, she picked up her
bundle in blushing confusion and ran off, forbidding
him to follow her, and swearing that she would
come back again.

x5* 22Q

CHAPTER XXIX

LANDRY submitted, and returned to the vintage,
_> surprised not to be as unhappy as he had ex-
pected ; for it is sweet to know that one is loved,
and faith is great where love is great. He was so
much amazed and so happy that he could not help
speaking of it to Cadet Caillaud, who wondered,
too, and admired little Fadette for her wisdom in
avoiding any weakness or imprudence all the time
she had loved Landry and had been loved by him.
" I am glad to see," said he, "that this girl has
so many good qualities ; for I myself have never
thought ill of her, and I am even willing to acknow-
ledge that if she had turned her attention toward
me, I should have liked her. She has always
seemed to me pretty, rather than ugly, on account
of her eyes ; and, for some time past, whenever
she tried to please, it was easy to see that she be-
came more attractive every day. But she loved no-
230

FADETTE

body but you, Landry, and was content not to be
displeasing to others; she sought no approval but
yours, and I assure you that is the kind of woman
1 admire. Besides, I have known her from a child,
and I have always believed her to have a good
heart ; and if everybody were asked to say truly
and conscientiously what they thought of her, they
would be obliged to testify in her favor; but it is
the way of the world, that if two or three people
attack some one, all the rest join in the pursuit,
throw stones, and add to the slander without know-
ing why, just as if it were for the pleasure of
crushing a defenseless person."

Landry was much relieved to hear Cadet Caillaud
talk thus, and from that day on he became very
intimate with him, and found some consolation in
confiding his sorrows in him. He even said to
him, one day :

"Think no more of Madelon, dear Cadet; she
has given us both a great deal of trouble. You are
no older than I, and you need be in no hurry to
marry. I have a little sister, Nanette, a sweet girl,
as pretty as a picture, and well brought up, and
she will soon be sixteen. Come and see us a little
oftener, and when you know our Nanette better,
231

k/

FADETTE

•

you will think it a good idea to become my
brother-in-law."

" Upon my word, I am not going to refuse,"
answered Cadet ; " and if the girl is not betrothed
to anybody else, I shall call at your house every
Sunday."

The evening after Fanchon Fadet's departure,
Landry went to see his father, to tell him of the
honest conduct of the girl whom Father Barbeau
had so misjudged ; and he offered him at the same
time his submission for the present, while making
every reservation for the future. His heart swelled
as he passed by Mother Fadet's house ; but he called
all his courage to his aid, remembering that if
Fanchon had not gone away, he might perhaps
have waited long for his present happiness in
knowing that she loved him. He saw, too, Mother
Fanchette, Fadette's cousin and godmother, who
had come to take care of the old woman and the
little boy in her place. She was seated in front of
the door, with the Grasshopper on her knees.
Poor Jeanet was crying, and refused to go to bed,
because he said that Fanchon had not as yet come
back, and it was she who always heard him say
his prayers and put him to bed. Mother Fanchette
232

FADETTE

did her best to soothe him, and Landry was happy
to hear her speak to the child so sweetly and
kindly. As soon as the Grasshopper caught sight
of Landry, he escaped from Mother Fanchette's
hands, though she held him tight, and rushed to
throw himself in the twin's way with many kisses
and questions, and entreaties to him to bring back
his Fanchon. Landry took him in his arms, and,
shedding tears himself, did his best to console him.
He wanted to give him a fine bunch of grapes
which he was carrying in a little basket from
Mother Caillaud to Mother Barbeau ; but Jeanet,
who was ordinarily somewhat greedy, was unwill-
ing to accept anything unless Landry promised to
go to look up his Fanchon. So Landry sighed and
gave his promise, for the child would never have sub-
mitted otherwise to Mother Fanchette's authority.

Father Barbeau had not expected such great reso-
lution from little Fadette. He was pleased ; but
he felt a pang of regret for what he had done, as
he was a just and kind-hearted man.

"I am sorry, Landry," said he, " that you did
not have the courage to give up going to see her.
If you had done your duty you would not have
been the cause of her going away. Heaven grant

233

FADETTE

that the child may thrive in her new home, and
that her grandmother and little brother may not
suffer from her absence; for though many people
speak ill of her, others again take her part, and
have assured me that she was good and useful in
her family. If the evil tales I have heard of her
are false, we shall soon know for certain, and shall
clear her as behooves us. If, unhappily, they
should turn out to be true, and you, Landry, are
the guilty one, we shall nevertheless come to her
assistance, and shall not let her fall into poverty.
All that I exact of you, Landry, is that you shall
never marry her."

11 Father," said Landry, " you and I see this
thing in a different light. If I were guilty of what
you think, I should, on the contrary, ask you to
give me your permission to marry her. But as
little Fadette is as innocent as my sister Nanette, I
only ask of you now to forgive the annoyance I
have caused you. We shall speak of her later, as
you have promised me."

Father Barbeau was obliged to accept these con-
ditions, and to renounce any further insistance. He
was too prudent to attempt to hurry matters, and
had to be satisfied with what he had obtained.
234

FADETTE

From that time Fadette was no more spoken of at
the Twinnery. They even avoidedall mention of her
name, for Landry turned red and then pale when-
ever it escaped from anybody in his presence, and
it was easy to see that he remembered her as at
first.

235

CHAPTER XXX

AT first Sylvinet felt a selfish pleasure in learn-
L ing that Fadette had gone away, and he
flattered himself that in the future his twin would
be devoted to him alone, and would leave him for
nobody else. But it was not so. It is true that
Landry loved Sylvinet better than anybody in the
world after little Fadette ; but he could not long
be happy in his society, because Sylvinet was un-
willing to give up his aversion to Fanchon. As
soon as Landry tried to speak to him of her, and
to make him share in her interests, Sylvinet be-
came distressed, and reproached him for persisting
in an attachment so disagreeable to their parents
and so vexatious to himself. After that, Landry
spoke no more to him of her ; but as he could not
live without speaking of her, he divided his time
between Cadet Caillaud and little Jeanet. He took
the child out walking with him, heard him repeat
236

FADETTE

his catechism, and taught and cheered him as best
he could; and when they were seen together, people
would have jeered at him if they had dared. Lan-
dry never allowed himself to be ridiculed on any
subject, or he would have been proud rather than
ashamed to show his affection for Fanchon Fadet's
brother ; and it was in this way that he protested
against the sayings of those who declared that his
father's wise influence 1 ad soon put an end to his
love-affair.

Sylvinet found that his brother did not return
to him as much as he had expected, and was con-
strained to direct his jealousy toward little Jeanet
and Cadet Caillaud ; he saw, too, on the other hand,
that his little sister Nanette, who until then had
cheered and gladdened him by her tender services
and caressing attentions, began to take pleasure in
the society of the same Cadet Caillaud, whose attach-
ment was openly approved by both families. In
short, poor Sylvinet, whose passion it was to pos-
sess the undivided affection of those whom he
loved, fell into a singular melancholy and mortal
languor, and his mind became so darkened that no
one knew what to do to please him. He never
laughed any more; he found enjoyment in nothing,
237

FADETTE

and could scarcely work, for he grew continually
weaker, and pined away. At last they feared for *
his life, as he was scarcely ever without fever ; and
whenever he suffered a little more than usual from
it, he spoke unreasonably, and cruelly wounded the
hearts of his parents. He declared that nobody
loved him, — he who had been more petted and
spoiled than anybody in the family. He wished
for death, saying that he was good for nothing;
that his friends were kind to him out of pity for
his sad condition, but that he was a burden to his
parents, and it would be a mercy if God should rid
them of him.

Sometimes Father Barbeau blamed the boy se-
verely when he heard these unchristian words, but
nothing good came of it. At other times Father
Barbeau entreated him with tears to believe in his
affection. This was still worse : Sylvinet wept,
repented, and asked forgiveness of his father, his
mother, his twin, and all his family ; and the
fever always came back more fiercely after he had
given free vent to the morbid sensibility of his
sick heart.

They consulted new doctors, who did not give
much advice, but who thought, as could be easily
238

FADETTE

gathered from their expression, that the whole evil
arose from the boys being twins, and that one or
the other, and consequently the weaker one, must
die.

They also consulted the nurse of Clavieres, the
most learned woman in the country after Mother
Sagette, who was dead, and Mother Fadet, who was
beginning to fall into her dotage. This skilful
woman said in answer to Mother Barbeau :

" There is but one thing which can save your
son, and that is that he should care for women."

" And he cannot endure the sight of them," said
Mother Barbeau ; " there never was another boy
so retiring and so disdainful; and since his twin
fell in love, he has done nothing but speak ill of
all the girls of our acquaintance. He abuses them
all, because one of them, and unfortunately not
the best, has, as he says, stolen from him the
heart of his twin."

"Well," said the nurse, who had great insight
into all maladies of mind and body, " the day your
son Sylvinet loves a woman, he will love her still
more madly than he loves his brother. I tell you

this beforehand. He has an excess of love in his

—

heart, and because he has always directed it to-
239

FADETTE

ward his twin, he has almost forgotten his sex ;
and thus he has sinned against that law of God
which decrees that a man shall cherish a woman
above father or mother, sister or brother. But
take comfort ; it is not possible that nature should
not dictate to him in this, however behindhand
he may be ; and take care that you do not hesitate
to give him in marriage the woman he loves,
whether she be poor, or ugly, or disagreeable ; for
it is evident that he will never love more than
one in his life. His heart is too tenacious for that ;
and if a miracle is required to separate him from
his twin, a still greater one would be necessary to
separate him from the woman whom he preferred
to him."

The nurse's advice commended itself to Father
Barbeau, and he attempted to send Sylvinet to visit
at those houses where there were good and pretty
young girls. But although Sylvinet was both good-
looking and well-mannered, his melancholy and
indifferent air was displeasing to the girls. They
made no advances toward him, and he was so timid
that he stood in awe of them, and therefore ima-
gined that he detested them.

Father Caillaud, who was a great friend and one
240

FADETTE

of the best advisers of the family, then gave other
counsel.

"I have always told you," said he, "that
absence was the best remedy. Look at Landry !
He was crazy about little Fadette, and yet now
that she has gone away, he has lost neither his
mind nor his health, and even seems happier than
he was ; for we used to notice that he was melan-
choly occasionally, though we could not find out
the cause. Now he is entirely sensible and re-
signed. It would be the same with Sylvinet, if
he should not see his brother for five or six months.
I am going to tell you how to separate them quietly.
My farm of the Priche is doing well ; but, on the
other hand, some property I have which lies over to-
ward Arton, is in a very bad condition, because my
farmer has been ill for nearly a year and does not
recover. I am unwilling to turn him out, because
he is a truly honest man. If I should send a good
workman to his assistance, he would get better;
for his illness is the result of over-fatigue and too
much zeal. If you consent, I shall send Landry to
spend the rest of the season there. We shall let
him go without allowing Sylvinet to find out that
it is for long, but shall say, on the contrary, that
16 241

FADETTE

he will be gone only a week. After a week has
passed, we shall mention another week, and so on,
until Sylvinet becomes accustomed to his brother's
absence. Follow my advice instead of constantly
gratifying the whims of a boy whom you have
petted too much and allowed to take the upper
hand at home."

Father Barbeau was inclined to follow this
counsel, but it terrified Mother Barbeau, and she
feared that it would prove to be a death-blow to
Sylvinet. It was necessary to make a compromise,
and she asked leave to keep Landry two weeks at
home in order to see if his constant presence there
would cure his brother. If, on the other hand,
Sylvinet should grow worse, she promised to sur-
render to Father Caillaud's opinion.

Thus it was done. Landry gladly agreed to
spend the required time at the Twinnery, and he
came home under the pretext that his father needed
his assistance in threshing the rest of the corn, as
Sylvinet was no longer able to work. Landry was
most tenderly solicitous to please his brother. He
stayed with him continually, slept with him in
the same bed, and cared for him as if he were a
little child. On the first day, Sylvinet was very
242

FADETTE

happy ; but on the second, he insisted that Landry
was bored with him, and Landry was unable to
remove the idea from his mind. On the third
day, Sylvinet was furious because the Grasshopper
came to see Landry, and Landry had not the heart
to send him away. At last, at the end of a week,
it was necessary to make a change ; for Sylvinet
became more and more unjust and exacting, and
was jealous of his own shadow. Then they
thought of putting Father Caillaud's plan into ex-
ecution ; and though Landry dearly loved his
village, his work, his family, and his masters,
and was not at all anxious to go to live among
strangers at Arton, he was willing to submit to all
that was advised in the interest of his brother.

243

CHAPTER XXXI

THIS time Sylvinet nearly died the first day;
but the next day he was calmer, and on the
third the fever left him. He became first resigned,
and then resolute ; and at the end of a week, his
friends recognized that his brother's absence did
more for him than his presence. In his jealous
meditations he discovered a motive for being al-
most pleased with Landry's departure. "At least,"
said he, "he knows nobody in the place where he
is going, and he will not make new acquaintances
immediately. He will find it dull, and will think
of me and wish for me. When he comes back, he
will be fonder of me."

Landry had been absent about three months, and
it was about a year since little Fadette had left the
country, when she came back suddenly, because
her grandmother had been struck with paralysis.
She nursed her grandmother with great zeal and
244

FADETTE

affection ; but old age is the worst of all dis-
eases, and at the end of a fortnight, Mother Fa-
det involuntarily gave up the ghost. Three days
afterward, little Fadette accompanied the body of
the poor old woman to the cemetery; and then,
after she had set the house in order, had undressed
her brother and put him to bed, and had kissed her
kind godmother, who had withdrawn to sleep in
the other room, she sat down very sadly in front
of the small fire that gave but little light, and
listened to the song of the cricket on the hearth,
which seemed to say to her :

Cricket, Cricket, it grows late,
And every fairy has her mate.

The rain and sleet were falling and beating
against the windows, and Fanchon was thinking
of her lover, when somebody knocked at the door,
and a voice said :

" Fanchon Fadet, are you there, and do you
know who I am?"

She was not slow to open, and great was her
joy in being clasped to Landry's heart. Landry
had heard of the grandmother's illness and of
Fanchon's return. He had been unable to resist

16* 245

FADETTE

his desire to see her, and he came at nightfall, to
leave at dawn. They spent the whole night talk-
ing at the fireside, but very quietly and seriously ;
for little Fadette reminded Landry that the bed on
which her grandmother had died was scarcely cold,
and it was neither the time nor the place to forget
themselves in their own joy. Still, in spite of their
good resolutions, they were very happy to be to-
gether, and to find that they loved each other more
than ever before.

As day broke, however, Landry began to lose
courage, and implored Fanchon to hide him in her
attic so that he could see her again the next night.
But, as usual, she brought him to his senses, and
made him reflect that they were not to be long
separated ; for she had decided to remain at home.

" I have reasons for it," said she, " which you
shall know later, and which shall not stand in the
way of our hope of marrying. Go back and finish
the work with which your master has intrusted
you, since, as I nave heard from my godmother, it
is necessary for your brother's recovery that he
should not see you for some time to come."

" That is the only reason which can induce me
to leave you," answered Landry; "for my poor
246

FADETTE

twin has caused me a great deal of pain, and I
fear that I have still more to suffer on his account.
You know so much, Fanchonette, you might find
some means of curing him."

"I know of none but of making him listen to
reason," answered she ; " for it is his mind which
affects his body, and whoever could cure one would
cure the other. But his aversion to me is so great
that I shall never have an opportunity of speaking
to him and helping him."

11 But you are so clever, Fadette ; you are so elo-
quent, and have such a gift of persuasion whenever
you choose to take the trouble, that if you talked
with him for an hour only, he would feel the effect
of it. Try, I entreat you. Do not be discouraged
because of his pride and ill-humor. Oblige him to
listen to you. Make this little effort for my sake,
Fanchon, and for the sake of the success of our
love ; for my brother's opposition is not the small-
est of the obstacles which lie in our way."

Fanchon promised ; and they parted after repeat-
ing more than a hundred times that they loved and
should always love each other.

247

CHAPTER XXXII

NOBODY in the country knew that Landry
had come back. If Sylvinet had learned it
by any chance, he would certainly have had an-
other attack of illness, for he could never have for-
given his brother for having come to see Fadette
and not himself.

Two days afterward, little Fadette dressed her-
self very neatly ; for she was no longer without a
penny, and her mourning was of nice fine serge.
She walked through the village of Cosse, and as
she had grown a great deal taller, those who saw her
pass did not recognize her at first. She had become
much prettier in town ; as she had been better
lodged and fed, her complexion had improved,
and she had gained the plumpness which be-
longed to her age; and now she could no longer
be taken for a boy in disguise, for her figure was
graceful and pleasant to look upon. Love and
248

FADETTE

happiness had lent to her face and person that mys-
terious charm which is so marked and yet so inex-
plicable. In short, though she was not the prettiest
girl in the world, as Landry imagined, she was the
comeliest, the best made, the freshest, and perhaps
the most desirable in the neighborhood.

She carried a basket on her arm, and stopped at
the Twinnery, where she asked to speak with
Father Barbeau. Sylvinet was the first to see her,
and he turned away from her, so great was his
displeasure at meeting her. But she asked him
where his father was with so much civility that he
was forced to answer her, and to show her the way
to the barn, where Father Barbeau was busy with
his carpentry. Little Fadette begged Father Barbeau
to take her to a place where she could speak with
him in private, and then he shut the door of the
barn, and said she could tell him everything she
wished.

Little Fadette did not allow herself to be dis-
heartened by Father Barbeau's chilling manner.
She sat down on one bundle of straw, and he on
another, and then she began :

"Though my grandmother, who is now dead,
had a grudge against you, and you have a grudge
249

FADETTE

against me, it is no less true that I know you for
the most just and trustworthy man in the country.
There is but one voice on the subject, and my
grandmother herself, though she blamed your pride,
did justice to you in this respect. Moreover, as
you know, I have had a long acquaintance with
your son Landry. He has often spoken to me
of you, and I know your character and worth
through him better than through others. That is
why I have come to ask a favor of you, and to in-
trust you with my confidence."

" Speak, Fadette," answered Father Barbeau. " I
have never refused my assistance to anybody, and
you may rely upon me, unless you have something
to ask which my conscience forbids."

" This is what I have come for," said little Fa-
dette, raising her basket and placing it at Father
Barbeau's feet. " My grandmother earned during
her lifetime, by giving consultations and selling
remedies, more money than anybody was aware
of; as she spent hardly anything, and invested no-
thing, no one could know how much she had in
an old hole in her cellar. She often showed me
the spot, and said : c When I am dead, you will find
there all the money I shall leave ; it will all belong
250

FADETTE

to you and your brother, and if I make you suffer
a few privations now, it is that you may one day
be the richer. But do not let the lawyers get hold
of it, for they will eat it all up in costs. Keep it
when it comes into your possession, and hide it all
your life, so that you may use it when you are
old, and may never fall into want.'

" After my poor grandmother was buried, I
obeyed her injunctions ; I took the key of the cel-
lar and tore down the bricks of the wall in the
place she had shown me. 1 found there what I
bring you in this basket, Father Barbeau, and beg
you to invest it for me as you shall think best,
after fulfilling the requirements of the law, of
which I am so ignorant, and preserving me from
the great expenses which I dread."

" I am much obliged to you for your confidence,
Fadette," said Father Barbeau, without opening the
basket, although he felt rather curious; "but I
have no right to receive your money and to as-
sume the charge of your affairs. I am not your
guardian. Surely your grandmother made a will?"

"She made no will, and the guardian appointed
me by law is my mother. Now, you know that
for a long time I have had no news of her, and
251

FADETTE

that I do not know whether she is alive or dead,
poor soul ! After her, I have no other relation ex-
cept my godmother Fanchette, who is a good, hon-
est woman, but quite incapable of managing my
property, or even keeping it safely locked up.
She could not help talking of it and showing it
to everybody, and I should be afraid either of her
investing it foolishly, or of her allowing it to be
handled by so many officious persons that it might
diminish without her knowledge ; for my poor
dear godmother has not the slightest idea how to
keep accounts."

" Is it then considerable?" asked Father Ban
beau, whose eyes were fixed, in spite of himself,
on the cover of the basket ; and he lifted it by
the handle to ascertain its weight. He found it
so heavy that he was surprised.

" If it is copper coin," said he, " a small sum
would be enough to load a horse."

Little Fadette, who had a fine sense of humor,
was much amused by his desire to examine the
basket. She made a motion to open it, but Father
Barbeau thought it beneath his dignity to let her
do it.

" It is no concern of mine," said he; "and
252

FADETTE

since I cannot take your money into my safe-
keeping, I ought not to know your affairs."

" But you must at least do me this little service,
Father Barbeau," said Fadette. " I am not much
wiser than my godmother about counting above
a hundred. Then, too, I do not know the value
of all old and new coins, and I can only trust you
to tell me whether I am poor or rich, and to find
out exactly the amount of my possessions."

"Let us see," said Father Barbeau, who could
hold out no longer; "you are not asking a very
great favor of me, and I must not refuse it."

Then little Fadette raised quickly the two covers
of the basket, and drew out two large bags, each
of which contained crowns to the amount of two
thousand francs.

" Well ! that is very nice,", said Father Barbeau;
"there is a little dowry which will bring you more
than one suitor."

"That is not all," said little Fadette ; " there is
still a little sum at the bottom of the basket, though
I do not know how much it is."

She drew out a purse of eelskin, and emptied it
into Father Barbeau's hat. There were in it a hun-
dred gold coins of an ancient stamp, which made
= 53

FADETTE

the good man open his eyes; after he had counted
these and replaced them in the purse, she took out a
second, the contents of which were the same ; and
then a third, and then a fourth ; and finally it was
seen that the basket held in gold and silver and
small coin not much less than forty thousand francs.

That was about one third more than the value
of all the buildings Father Barbeau owned, and, as
country people never realize ready money, he had
never seen so much gold at once in his life before.

Honest and disinterested as a peasant may be,
it cannot be said that the sight of money is painful
to him ; and, for the moment, drops of perspiration
started to Father Barbeau's forehead. After he had
counted everything, he said :

" You are only twenty-two crowns short of
forty thousand francs, and I may say that your
share of the inheritance is two thousand pistoles in
ready money ; so you are the best match in the
country, little Fadette, and your brother the Grass-
hopper can be sickly and lame all his life : he can
go in a carriage to look after his property. You
may be content, for you have only to say that you
are rich, and let it be generally known, if you
want to find a handsome husband."
254

FADETTE

"I am in no hurry," said little Fadette ; u and I
ask you, on the contrary, to keep the secret of my
wealth, Father Barbeau. As I am so ugly, it is my
fancy to be married, not for my money, but for
my good heart and my fair name; and as my rep-
utation in this part of the country is bad, I should
like to pass some time here to let people see that I
do not deserve it."

" As to your ugliness, Fadette," said Father Bar-
beau, lifting his eyes, which had been till then
glued to the top of the basket, " I can tell you in
good earnest that you have got rid of it in the most
astonishing way, and that you are so much im-
proved since your stay in town that you may now
pass for a pretty girl. And as to your bad name,
if, as I like to think, you do not deserve it, 1 ap-
prove your idea of delaying a little and of keeping
the secret or your riches ; for there are plenty of
men who would be so dazzled by them as to desire
to marry you, without previously feeling for you
that esteem which a woman should require from
her husband.

"Now, as to your leaving this money in my cus-
tody, it would be contrary to law, and might ex-
pose me later to suspicions and false charges ; for

255

FADETTE

there are always plenty of evil tongues abroad. And
besides, even supposing that you have the right to
dispose of what belongs to you, you have none to
invest lightly the property of your brother, who is
a minor. All that I can do will be to ask advice
for you, without mentioning your name ; and then
I shall let you know the best means of investing
your mother's inheritance and yours safely and
correctly, without allowing it to pass through the
hands of pettifoggers, which are not always to be
trusted. Carry all this money home, and hide it
until I give you your answer. I shall be at your
service when you require it, to testify before the
agents of your joint heir to the amount of the sum
which we have just counted, and the figure of
which I am going to write down in the corner of
my barn, so that I may not forget it."

All little Fadette wanted was that Father Barbeau
should know the whole truth of the matter. If
she felt a little proud to have him find out that
she was rich, it was so that he should no longer
be able to accuse her of imposing upon Landry.

256

CHAPTER XXXIII

WHEN Father Barbeau saw how prudent and
clever she was, he was less in haste to de-
posit and invest her money for her than to find out
concerning the reputation she had acquired at Cha-
teau-Meillant, where she had spent the year. For if
her large dowry tempted him to pass over her un-
fortunate parentage, it could never induce him to
be careless about the honor of the girl whom he
thought of accepting as his daughter-in-law. So
he went himself to Chateau-Meillant, and was most
conscientious in seeking information. He heard
not only that little Fadette had not come there to
give birth to a child, but that her conduct there
had been so spotless that not the slightest particle
of blame could be attached to her. She had lived
with an elderly nun of noble family, who had
taken pleasure in treating her more as a companion
than as a servant, so exemplary had she found her
17 257

FADETTE

in her behavior, her manners, and her mind. She
regretted her very much, and said that she was a
perfect Christian, brave, economical, neat, and pains-
taking, and of so amiable a disposition that she
should never find her like again. As this old lady
was very well off, she busied herself with many
charities, and little Fadette had been wonder-
fully useful to her in nursing the sick and prepar-
ing medicines, and had learned from her mistress
several precious secrets brought from the convent
before the Revolution.

Father Barbeau was well pleased, and returned
to Cosse fully decided to sift the matter to the bot-
tom. He called his family together, and commis-
sioned his older children, his brothers, and his other
relations to undertake a careful investigation of
little Fadette's conduct ever since she had reached
years of discretion, so that if all the ill said of her
had arisen from her childish folly, he could afford
to laugh at it ; if, on the contrary, anybody could
affirm that she had been seen to commit an evil
action or to do anything indecorous, he was deter-
mined to maintain his prohibition to Landry to have
anything to do with her. The investigation was
conducted with all desirable prudence, and without
258

FADETTE

any mention of the dowry, for he had never spoken
of it, even to his wife.

During all this time little Fadette lived a very
retired life in her little house, which she was un-
willing to change in any particular, save that she
kept it so clean that she could see her face reflected
in her shabby furniture. She dressed the little
Grasshopper neatly, and, without making it appa-
rent, provided him, her godmother, and herself with
wholesome food, which soon produced its effect
upon the child : his health improved to a remark-
able degree, and he soon became as well as could
be wished. Happiness soon changed his disposi-
tion for the better, and as he was no longer threat-
ened and scolded by his grandmother, and met
with nothing but caresses, affectionate words, and
kind treatment, he became a very nice little boy,
full of odd and pretty fancies, incapable of exciting
anybody's dislike, in spite of his lameness and his
little snub nose.

The alteration in Fanchon Fadet's appearance
and manners was so marked that the unkind gossip
about her was forgotten, and more than one young
man, on seeing her pass by with a light step and
graceful carriage, wished that her mourning were
259

FADETTE

at an end, so that he could pay her his court, and
ask her to dance.

Sylvinet Barbeau alone was unwilling to change
his opinion of her. He saw, indeed, that there was
some plan on foot concerning her in the family, for
Father Barbeau could not restrain himself from
talking of her often, and whenever he received the
refutation of some lie that had been formerly told
of her, he congratulated himself on Landry's ac-
count, saying that he could not endure to have his
son accused of misleading an innocent girl.

They spoke also of Landry's approaching return,
and Father Barbeau was apparently anxious to ob-
tain Father Caillaud's consent to it. At last Sylvinet
saw that there would be no further opposition to
Landry's love, and his sorrow returned. Public
opinion, which veers with every wind, had been
for some little time favorable to Fadette ; nobody
knew that she was rich, but she was liked, and
for that very reason she was the more disliked by
Sylvinet, who knew her to be his rival in Landry's
affection.

From time to time, Father Barbeau allowed the
word " marriage" to escape him, and said that his
twins would soon be old enough to think of it.
260

FADETTE

Landry's marriage had always been a distressing
idea to Sylvinet, and seemed to him the final
decree of their separation. He fell ill again of his
fever, and his mother consulted still other doctors.

One day she met by accident Fadette's god-
mother, Mother Fanchette, who, after hearing her
anxious lamentations, asked her why she spent so
much money, and went so far from home, when
she had near at hand a woman more skilful in
healing than all the others in the country, and
who would not practise for money, as her grand-
mother had done, but only for the love of God and
her neighbor. Then she named little Fadette.

Mother Barbeau mentioned it to her husband,
and he made no objection. He told her that
Fadette had acquired a great reputation for know-
ledge at Chateau-Meillant, and that people had
come there from all sides to consult her as well as
her mistress.

So Mother Barbeau begged Fadette to come and
help Sylvinet, who was ill in bed.

Fanchon had more than once sought an oppor-
tunity of speaking with him, as she had promised
Landry to do so, but Sylvinet had never given her
the chance. She did not wait to be asked twice,
J7+ 261

FADETTE

but went immediately to see the poor twin. She
found him in a feverish sleep, and requested the
family to leave her alone with him. As the women
who work cures are in the habit of pursuing their
treatment in private, everybody agreed to go out
of the room.

At first Fadette placed her hand on that of the
twin, which was lying on the edge of the bed ;
but she did this so gently that he took no notice
of it, although his sleep was so light that he woke
with the mere buzzing of a fly. Sylvinet's hand
was hot as fire, and it became still hotter while
little Fadette held it in hers. He showed some
agitation, but made no motion to draw away his
hand. Then little Fadette laid her other hand
on his forehead, as gently as before, and he became
still more restless. But he calmed down little by
little, and she felt the hand of her patient grow-
ing cooler from minute to minute, and saw that
his sleep was as sweet as that of a little child.
She stayed with him until he was about to wake,
and then withdrew behind the curtain and went
out of the room. As she left the house, she said
to Mother Barbeau :

"Go to your boy and give him something to
262

FADETTE

eat, for he has no more fever; and be sure, above
all, not to speak to him of me, if you want me to
cure him. I shall come back this evening, at the
hour you say his disease is worse, and I shall try
to break his fever again."

*>}

CHAPTER XXXIV

M*

OTHER BARBEAU was much astonished to
find Sylvinet free from fever, and immedi-
ately brought him food, which he ate with some
appetite. As the fever had not left him before for
six days, and he had refused to take anything, the
family were much delighted with the skill of little
Fadette, who without waking him and by the sole
virtue of her spells, as they thought, had already
done him so much good.

When evening came, the fever rose again. Syl-
vinet dozed, and dreamed that he was running
about the country, and was afraid of the people
round him when he woke.

Fadette returned, and, as in the morning, re-
mained alone with him for nearly an hour, using
no other magic than that of holding his hands and
head very gently, and breathing freshly against his
hot cheek.

364

FAOETTE

As in the morning, she cured him of his fever
and delirium ; and after she had gone away, re-
questing that no one should speak to Sylvinet of
what she had done for him, they found him sleep-
ing peacefully, without any flush on his face, or
any further appearance of illness.

I do not know where Fadette had picked up this
idea She had tried it first accidentally, and then
was encouraged by experience to repeat it upon
her little brother Jeanet, whom she had brought
back from the point of death a dozen times by
using no other remedy than that of cooling him
with her hands and breath, or warming him by
the same means when the high fever had changed
into a chill.

She imagined that a person in good health, en-
dowed with a certain kind of temperament and
great trust in the goodness of God, could drive
away disease by the power of love and will, and
by the touch of a very pure and very loving hand.
So, all the time that she laid her hands upon the
patient, she made silent prayers to God. What
she had done for her own little brother, and was
now doing for Landry's brother, she would have
been unwilling to try upon anybody who was less
26s

FADETTE

dear to her, or in whom she felt less interest : for
she believed that the first virtue of this remedy was
the great love she offered up in her heart to the
sick person, without which God would give her
no power to cure the ill.

While little Fadette was charming away Syl-
vinet's fever, she said in her prayer to God the
same thing she had said as she soothed her
brother's fever.

" O God ! let my health pass from my body in-
to this suffering body ; and as the dear Jesus sacri-
ficed his life to redeem the souls of all men, if it
be thy will to deprive me of life to give it to this
sick person, take it ; I yield it willingly in exchange
for the cure of him for whom I am praying."

Little Fadette had indeed thought of trying the
efficacy of this same prayer at her grandmother's
death-bed ; but she had not dared, because it seemed
to her that life was spent in the body and soul of
the old woman through the effect of age and of
that law of nature which is God's own will. So
little Fadette, who, as you see, put more piety than
witchcraft into her charms, feared to displease him
by asking something which he grants to other
Christians only by special miracle.
266

FADETTE

Whether the remedy were intrinsically sovereign
or useless, it is certain that in three days she re-
lieved Sylvinet of his fever. He would never have
known the cause of his cure, if he had not waked
suddenly during her last visit, and seen her bend-
ing over him, gently drawing away her hands
from his.

At first he thought it was a vision, and closed
his eyes to avoid seeing her ; but afterward he
asked his mother if Fadette had not felt his head
and his pulse, or if he had dreamed it. Mother
Barbeau, who had finally heard something of her
husband's projects, and was anxious for Sylvinet to
recover from his dislike of Fadette, answered that
the girl had really come for three days, morning
and evening, and had broken his fever by her
secret art in a very marvelous way.

Sylvinet appeared not to believe it ; he said that
the fever had left him of its own accord, and that
Fadette's secrets and incantations were all folly and
vanity. He was so quiet and comfortable for sev-
eral days that Father Barbeau thought to profit by
it by saying something to him about the possibil-
ity of his brother's marriage, without mentioning
the girl he had in view.

267

FADETTE

" You need not hide the name of the girl you
intend to give him," answered Sylvinet. " I know
very well it is that little Fadette who has charmed
you all."

In fact Father Barbeau's secret investigation had
turned out so favorably to little Fadette, that he
hesitated no longer, and was very desirous of re-
calling Landry. He had nothing now to dread ex-
cept Sylvinet's jealousy, and tried to cure him of
his prejudice by telling him that his brother could
never be happy without little Fadette. Then Syl-
vinet answered :

" Do as you choose, for my brother must be
happy at all costs."

But no one dared take a step, because Sylvinet
fell back into his fever as soon as he seemed to
have given his consent.

268

CHAPTER XXXV

FATHER BAR BEAU was afraid that little
Fadette might cherish a grudge against him on
account of his former injustice, and that she might
console herself for Landry's absence and think of
some other man. When she came to the Twinnery
to take care of Sylvinet, he had tried to speak to
her of Landry ; but she pretended not to hear him,
so that he was much embarrassed.

At last, one morning he made up his mind and
went to see little Fadette.

" Fanchon Fadet," said he, "I have come to
ask a question of you, which I beg you to answer
truly and honestly. Before your grandmother died,
had you any idea how much property she was going
to leave you?"

"Yes, Father Barbeau," answered little Fadette,
11 I had some idea of it, because 1 often saw her
counting out gold and silver, and 1 never saw her
269

FADETTE

spend anything but coppers ; and also because she
often said to me when the other young people
laughed at my rags : * Never mind, my little girl ;
you will be richer than all of them, and the day
will come when you can be dressed in silk from
head to foot, if such is your pleasure.'"

"Then," Father Barbeau went on, "did you
let Landry know, and is it possible that he pre-
tended to be in love with you on account of your
money? "

"As to that, Father Barbeau," answered little
Fadette, " as it was always my whim to be loved
for my fine eyes, which are the only beauty that
has never been denied me, I was not so stupid as
to go and tell Landry that they were tied up in
eelskin purses ; and yet I might have told him
without danger to myself, for Landry loved me so
truly and devotedly that he never cared to know
whether I were rich or poor."

" And since the death of your grandmother, dear
Fanchon," continued Father Barbeau, "can you
give me your word of honor that Landry has not
been informed of the state of the case by you or
by anybody else ? "

" I can," said Fadette. " As true as I love God,
270

FADETTE

except myself, you are the only person in the world
who knows this thing."

" And do you think, Fanchon, that Landry has
still kept his love for you ? And have you received
any token of his good faith since your grand-
mother died ? "

" I have received the best of all tokens," an-
swered she; "for I confess that he came to see
me three days after my grandmother's death, and
that he swore to me he would either have me for
his wife or die of grief."

" And what was your answer, Fadette?"

"I am not obliged to tell you, Father Barbeau ;
but I shall do so to please you. I answered that
it was not yet time to think of marrying, and that
I should not readily accept a man who paid me
his court against his parents' will."

Little Fadette spoke in such a proud, indifferent
tone that Father Barbeau was disturbed.

" I have no right to question you, Fanchon Fa-
det," said he, u and I do not know whether you
mean to make my son happy or unhappy for life;
but I know that he is terribly in love with you,
and if I were in your place, and had your desire to
be loved for myself alone, I should say to myself:
271

FADETTE

'Landry Barbeau loved me when I was in rags,
when everybody spurned me, and when his pa-
rents were so unreasonable as to think his love a
sin. He believed me beautiful when I was hope-
lessly ugly in the eyes of the rest of the world ;
he loved me in spite of the troubles in which his
love involved him ; he loved me in absence as
much as when we were together ; in short, he
loved me so well that I cannot mistrust him, and
1 shall never take another for my husband.' "

11 I have thought so for a long time, Father Bar-
beau," answered little Fadette ; u but I must repeat
that it would bs greatly repugnant to me to enter
a family which blushed to receive me, and only
yielded out of weakness and pity."

" If that is all that hinders you, set yourself at
ease, Fanchon ," answered Father Barbeau ; " for Lan-
dry's family honors you and desires to have you. Do
not think that we have changed our minds because
you are rich. It was not your poverty which kept
us aloof, but the evil gossip spread abroad concern-
ing you. If it were well founded, I should never
consent to call you my daughter-in-law, even if it
were to save Landry's life. But I was determined
to know the truth of the reports ; I went expressly
272

FADETTE

to Chateau-Meillant ; I informed myself minutely
both there and here concerning you ; and now I
know that people lied against you, and that you
are a good, honest girl, as Landry declared with so
much fire. So, Fanchon Fadet, I come to ask you
to marry my son, and if you say yes, he shall be
here in a week."

This overture, which she had foreseen, made
little Fadette very happy ; but she was unwilling
to make her joy too apparent, as she wished to be
forever respected by her husband's family. She
answered therefore with some circumspection ; and
then Father Barbeau said :

"I see, my girl, that you still bear a grudge
against me and mine. Do not exact too many
apologies from a man of my age ; try to be satisfied
with my word when I say that you shall be loved
and esteemed by us all. Believe in Father Barbeau,
who has never deceived anybody. Come, will you
give the kiss of peace to the guardian whom you
yourself selected, or to the father who longs to
adopt you ? "

Little Fadette could restrain herself no longer ;
she threw her arms round Father Barbeau's neck,
and his old heart rejoiced.
18 273

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE arrangements were soon made. The
wedding was to take place as soon as Fan-
chon's mourning was over. Nothing remained
except to recall Landry ; but when Mother Barbeau
went that evening to see Fanchon, to give her her
blessing and embrace, she told how Sylvinet had
again fallen ill at the news of his brother's ap-
proaching marriage, and she begged a few days'
grace for the boy to recover either in health or
spirits.

"You made a mistake, Mother Barbeau," said
little Fadstte, "to let Sylvinet know it was not a
dream when he saw me at his bedside, as he
roused himself from his fever. Now, his will will
thwart mine, and I shall no longer have the same
power to cure him while he is asleep. He may
resist my influence, and my very presence may
make him worse."

274

FADETTE

" I cannot believe it," answered Mother Barbeau;
tl for just now, as he felt ill and went to bed, he
asked : ' Where is Fadette ? I think she relieved
me. Will she not come back any more?' I told
him that I should go after you, and he seemed
pleased and even impatient."

" I will come," said Fadette ; " only this time I
must try another course, for I assure you that the
treatment which was successful while he was un-
aware of my presence will not operate any longer."

" Are not you going to take any drugs or rem-
edies with you?" asked Mother Barbeau.

" No," said Fadette ; " it is not his body that is
sick ; I must deal with his mind ; I am going to
try to influence it, but I cannot promise you suc-
cess. What I can promise is to wait patiently for
Landry's return, and not to ask you to send for him
until we have done all in our power to restore his
brother to health. Landry has begged me so often
to help Sylvinet, that he will approve my delaying
the happiness of his return."

When Sylvinet saw little Fadette at his bedside,

he looked displeased, and refused to say how h*

was. She tried to feel his pulse, but he drew

away his hand, and turned his face toward the

275

FADETTE

wall. Fadette made signs to the others to leave
her alone with him ; and when everybody had
gone, she put out the lamp, and allowed no other
light to enter the room except that cf the moon,
which was just then at the full. Then she went
back to Sylvinet's side, and said in a tone of com-
mand, which he obeyed like a child :

"Sylvinet,give me both your hands and answer
me truly ; for I have not put myself to this incon-
venience for the sake of money, and if I took the
trouble to come here to care for you, it was not
to be received in this thankless way. Pay attention
to what I am going to ask, and to what you are
going to answer, for it will be impossible for you
to deceive me."

" Ask of me what you think fit, Fadette," said
the twin, quite bewildered to hear himself so se-
verely addressed by the little madcap Fadette,
whom he had often answered with a shower of
stones in former days.

" Sylvain Barbeau," she went on, " I believe
that you wish to die."

Sylvain hesitated a moment before replying, and
then, as Fadette pressed his hand rather tightly to
make him conscious of the strength of her will, he
said with some confusion :
276

FADETTE

"Would not it be best for me to die, since !
see that I am a trouble and burden to my family
because of my ill health, and because of my — "

"Speak, Sylvain ; you must conceal noth'ng
from me."

" Because of my anxious temperament that I
cannot help," answered the twin, quite overcome.

" And also because of your bad heart," said Fa-
dette so harshly that he was still more angry and
afraid.

x8-

277

CHAPTER XXXVII

UT 1 J HY do you accuse me of a bad heart?"

V V sa^d he; "you insult me when you see
that I have no strength to defend myself."

" I have told you part of the truth about your-
self," resumed Fadette, "and I am going to tell
you still more. I have no pity for your illness,
for I understand enough about it to be sure that it
is not serious ; and if you are in any danger, it is
of being crazy, for you are doing your best to be-
come so, without considering where your perver-
sity and your weakness of mind are leading you."

"Upbraid me for my weakness of mind," said
Sylvinet ; " but as to my perversity, that is a re-
proach which I do not think I deserve."

" Do not try to excuse yourself," returned little
Fadette ; "I know you rather better than you know
yourself, Sylvain ; and 1 tell you that weakness en-
genders falseness of heart, and it is on that account
that you are selfish and ungrateful."
278

FADETTE

" If you think so ill of me, Fanchon Fadet,
my brother Landry must have spoken cruelly to
you of me, and has let you see how little he cares
about me ; for if you know me, or think you know
me, it can be only through him."

"I expected this of you, Sylvain. I was sure
that you could not say a few words without com-
plaining of your twin and finding fault with him.
Your love is immoderate and ungoverned, and
tends to degenerate into petulance and spite. From
that I know that you are half mad, and that you
are not kind. Well, 1 can tell you that Landry
loves you ten thousand times more than you love
him ; and the proof is that he never finds fault
with you, no matter what pain you give him,
whereas you are always reproaching him, although
he does nothing but yield to you and wait upon
you. How do you expect me not to see the differ-
ence between him and you? So the more kindly
Landry spoke of you, the more ill I thought of
you ; for 1 reflected that no just person could mis-
understand so good a brother."

" So you hate me, Fadette? I did not deceive
myself, then, for I knew that you stole my brother's
love from me by insinuations against me."
279

FADETTE

" There you are again, Master Sylvain ; and I am
glad that you lay the blame on me at last. Very
well, I reply that your heart is hard, and that you
are a liar, since you wilfully misunderstand and
insult a girl who has always served you and taken
your part, although she knew that you were in-
imical to her ; a girl who has deprived herself a
hundred times of the greatest and only pleasure
she had in the world, — the pleasure of seeing Lan-
dry and being with him, — so that she might send
Landry to you and let you enjoy the happiness she
renounced herself. And yet I owed you nothing.
You have always been my enemy, and as far back
as I can remember, I never met a boy so haughty
and unfeeling as you were to me. I could have
taken my revenge, for there has been no lack of
opportunity. If I have not done so, and if I have
returned you good for evil without your knowledge,
it is because 1 firmly believe it to be my duty as a
Christian to forgive my neighbor in order to do
what is pleasing in the sight of God. But when
I speak to you of God, you probably do not under-
stand me, for you are an enemy to him and to your
own salvation."

11 I allow you to say a great many things, Fa-
280

FADETTE

dette ; but it is a little too much for you to accuse
me of being a heathen."

"Did not you say, just now, that you longed
for death ? And do you think that is a Christian
desire? "

"I did not say that, Fadette. I said — "

Sylvinet stopped, frightened by the remembrance
of his own words, which seemed impious to him
in the light of Fadette's expostulations.

She did not leave off, but continued to remon-
strate with him.

11 It may be," said she, "that your expression
was more reprehensible than your thought ; for I
am firmly convinced that you are not so desirous
of dying as you like to make others think, in order
that you may make yourself master at home, and
may torment your poor unhappy mother and your
twin, who is simple enough to believe that you
want to put an end to your days. I am not your
dupe, Sylvain. I believe that you are as much
afraid of death as anybody else, and even more so ;
and that you are amusing yourself by terrifying
those who are fond of you. You like to see that
the wisest and most necessary resolutions always
give way before your threats of suicide ; and it is
281

FADETTE

indeed very convenient and pleasant to have but
to say a word to make everybody bow before you.
In this way, you rule all your family. But as this
is contrary to nature, and as you succeed only by
means which God disapproves, he punishes you by
making you still more wretched than you would be
if you obeyed instead of commanding. This is the
reason that you are tired of a life which has been
made too easy for you. I am going to tell you what
was needed to make you a good and well-behaved
boy, Sylvain. You should have had very harsh
parents, much poverty, many days without bread,
and frequent blows. If you had been brought up
in the same school as I and my brother Jeanet, in-
stead of being ungrateful, you would be thankful
for the least kindness. Now, Sylvain, do not urge
the plea that you are a twin. I know you have
often heard that the love of twins for each other
is a law of nature, which would cause your death
if it were crossed, and you thought you were only
acquiescing in your destiny by carrying this love
to excess ; but God is not so unjust as to mark us
out for an evil destiny before we are born. He is
not so cruel as to endow us with ideas which we
cannot overcome, and it is insolence to be so su-
282

FADETTE

perstitious as to believe that there are in your
blood more power and evil destiny than resistance
and reason in your mind. Unless you are crazy,
I shall never believe that you are not able to fight
against your jealousy if you wish. But you do not
wish, because your fault has been indulged, and you
think less of your duty than of your caprice."

Sylvinet answered nothing, and little Fadette
continued for a long time to upbraid him without
mercy. He knew that she was right in the main,
and that only in one point was she too severe, and
that was in taking for granted that he had never
striven against his evil nature, and that he had
been fully aware of his selfishness ; whereas he
had been selfish without either intending or know-
ing it. He was much pained and humiliated, and
would have been glad to give her a better idea of
his conscience. Fadette knew that she exagger-
ated ; but she did it purposely, so as to buffet him
thoroughly in spirit before visiting him with the
sweetness of consolation. She exerted herself to
speak harshly, and to feign anger, and all the
while she felt so much love and pity for him in
her heart that her pretense made her well-nigh sick,
and she left him more wearied than he was.
283

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE truth is that Sylvinet was not half so ill
as he seemed, and as he liked to believe.
Little Fadette had perceived immediately on feeling
his pulse that his fever was not high, and that if
he were slightly delirious, it was because his mind
was more diseased than his body. So she thought
she should set to work on his mind by making
him afraid of her, and at daylight she returned to
him. He had not slept, but was quiet and apparently
exhausted. As soon as he saw her he stretched out
his hand, instead of pulling it away as he had done
the night before.

" Why do you offer to shake hands with me,
Sylvain ? " she asked ; " is it so that I may ascertain
whether you still have fever ? I see by your face
that you have none."

Sylvinet was much embarrassed at being obliged
to draw back the hand which she had been unwill-
ing to touch, and said :

284

FADETTE

" It was to bid you good-morning, Fadette, and
to thank you for all the trouble you take in my
behalf."

*' If that is what you mean, I accept your good-
morning," said she, taking his hand and keeping
it in hers ; " for I never refuse a courtesy, and I do
not think you are so untrue as to show an interest
in me which you do not feel, to some degree."

Although Sylvinet was quite wide-awake, he ex-
perienced a great sense of comfort in having Fadette
hold his hand, and he said very softly :

11 And yet you treated me very badly, yesterday
evening, Fanchon, and I do not know how it is
that I am not provoked with you. I am very
thankful to you for coming to see me in spite of
all the grievances you have against me."

Fadette sat down at his bedside, and began to
talk to him in an entirely new way ; she was so
kind, so sweet, and so tender that Sylvinet's relief
and pleasure were the greater for having believed
her incensed with him. He wept much, confessed
his faults, and even requested her forgiveness and
friendship so prettily and winningly that it was
easy for her to see his heart was better than his
head. She let him pour himself out, though
285

FADETTE

she still occasionally scolded him, and whenever
she tried to take away her hand, he insisted upon
keeping it in his, because he thought it cured his
sickness and his sorrow at the same time.

When she saw that he had reached the point she
wished, she said :

"lam going out ; and you must get up, Sylvain,
for you have no more fever, and you must not stay
here coddling yourself, while your mother tires her-
self out waiting on you, and wastes her time in your
room. You must eat what your mother brings
you, in accordance with my directions. She will
give you meat, though I know you say it disgusts
you, and live only on messes of herbs. But never
mind, you must make an effort, and even if you
do feel repugnance, you must not show it. It will
please your mother to see you eating solid food;
and if you succeed in overcoming your distaste the
first time, you will feel less the second time, and
none the third. See if 1 am not right. Good-by,
and do not let them call me so soon again, for I
know that you need not be ill unless you wish."

^^ Shall you not come back this evening?" asked
Sylvinet. " I thought you were coming back."

"I do not practise for money, Sylvain, and I
286

FADETTE

have something else to do besides taking care of
you, when you are not ill."

" You are right, Fadette; but you think my wish
to see you is all selfishness : it is not so, for it
relieves me to talk with you."

"Very well, you are no longer weak, and you
know where 1 live. You are aware that I am going
to be your sister by marriage as I am already by
the affection I feel for you ; so you may come to see
me without incurring any blame."

11 1 shall come, since you allow me," said Syl-
vinet. u Good-by, then, Fadette; I am going to
get up, although I have a bad headache from lying
awake and worrying all night."

"I will try to take away your headache," said
she ; u but it must be your last, and remember that
I order you to sleep well to-night."

She laid her hand on his forehead, and at the end
of five minutes he was so much soothed and re-
freshed that he no longer felt any pain.

"I see," said he, "that I was wrong to refuse
your aid, Fadette ; for you have a great gift for
healing, and can charm sickness away. The others
made me worse with then drugs, and you cure me
with a touch ; I think that if I could be always

FADETTE

with you, you would keep me from all illness and
error. But, tell me, Fadette, are you no longer
angry with me ? And do you rely on the promise
of entire obedience I made you ? "

"I do rely on it," said she, "and unless you
change your mind, I shall love you as if you were
my twin."

" If you really meant what you say, Fanchon,
you would be less formal with me, as twins do not
use so much ceremony toward each other."

"Very well, Sylvain, get up, eat, talk, and
sleep," said she, rising. "This is my prescription
for to-day. To-morrow you must set to work."

"And I shall go to see you," said Sylvinet.

" Yes," said she, and as she went, she looked at
him with so much affection and indulgence that he
was filled with a sudden desire and energy to rise
from his bed of sickness and sloth.

2S3

CHAPTER XXXIX

MOTHER BARBEAU was amazed at little
Fadette's skill, and that evening she said
to her husband :

" Sylvinet is better to-day than he has been for
six months; he ate all I brought him to-day, with-
out making faces as usual, and the strangest thing
of all is that he speaks of little Fadette as if she
were an angel. There is no praise he has not given
her, and he is most anxious for his brother's return
and marriage. It is like a miracle, and I do not
know whether I am asleep or awake."

"Miracle or no miracle," said Father Barbeau,
"the girl is very clever, and I think she will
bring good luck to the family."

Sylvinet left three days afterward to go to his
brother at Arton. He had asked his father and
Fadette to give him the great reward of being the
first to bring Landry word of his happiness.
19 289

FADETTE

" All joys come to me at once," cried Landry,
half fainting with happiness in his twin's arms,
" since you come to bring me home, and seem as
pleased as I myself."

They returned together without loitering by the
way, as may be easily believed, and never were
people happier than the family at the Twinnery,
when they sat down to supper with Fadette and
little Jeanet at the table.

Life was very sweet to all of them for the next
six months. Little Nanette was betrothed to Cadet
Caillaud, Landry's best friend, next to the mem-
bers of his own family, and it was decided that
the two weddings should take place at the same
time. Sylvinet's fondness for Fadette was so great
that he would do nothing without her advice, and
her power over him was as great as if she were
really his sister. If it still sometimes happened
that he looked melancholy and was lost in reverie,
Fadette had only to reprove him to make him
smile and talk again.

The two pairs were married on the same day,
at the same mass, and as there was no lack of
money, the wedding was so gay that Father Cail-
laud, who had never in his life before failed in
290

FADETTE

sobriety, looked a little tipsy on the third day.
Nothing dampened the joy of Landry and his family,
and I may even say of the whole neighborhood ;
for Father Barbeau and Father Caillaud, who were
rich, and Fadette, who was richer than both of
them put together, showed hospitality, to all and
gave away much in charity. Fanchon's good heart
prompted her to return good for evil to all those
who had once thought ill of her. Later, too, after
Landry had bought a fine farm, in the manage-
ment of which he and his wife were most skilful
and successful, she had a comfortable house built
for the purpose of gathering together all the un-
fortunate children of the parish, during four hours
of every week-day, and she herself and her brother
Jeanet took the pains to educate them, to teach
them true religion, and even to relieve the needs
of the poorest among them. She remembered that
she had been a forlorn and unhappy child, and her
own beautiful children were early trained to kind-
ness and sympathy toward those who were neither
rich nor petted.

What became of Sylvinet in the midst of all this
happiness ? Something that no one could under-
stand, and that puzzled Father Barbeau very much.
291

FADETTE

About a month after his brother and sister were
married, as his father was urging him to take a wife,
he answered that he had no taste for marriage,
but that he had had for some time a wish which
he was desirous of gratifying, and that it was to
enlist as a soldier.

As boys are none too numerous in the families
of our part of the country, and all hands are needed
there for the cultivation of the land, it is extremely
rare for anybody to volunteer. So Sylvinet's de-
cision caused great surprise, especially as he could
give no reason for it except his own caprice and a
military ardor of which he had never been sus-
pected. All that his father, mother, brothers and
sisters, and even Landry, could say was powerless
to dissuade him, and they were obliged to tell
Fanchon, who had the best head and gave the
best advice in the family.

She talked for more than two hours with Sylvi-
net, and after they had parted, it was seen that
both Sylvinet and his sister-in-law had been weep-
ing ; but they looked so quiet and resolute that
there was no more use in raising objections when
Sylvinet said that he persisted in his desire, and
Fanchon that she approved his resolution, and ex-
292

FADETTE

pected him to reap great advantage from it in time
to come.

As they could not be sure that she had not more
knowledge on the subject than she would allow,
no one dared offer further opposition, and Mother
Barbeau herself gave in, after shedding many tears.
Landry was in despair, but his wife said :

"It is God's will, and the duty of all of us, to let
Sylvain go. Believe me, I know what I say, and
please ask me no more questions."

Landry accompanied his brother as far as he
could, and when he returned him his bundle, which
he had been carrying on his own shoulders, he felt
as if he had given away part of his heart. He
went home to his beloved wife, who was obliged
to nurse him during a full month, as his sorrow
made him really ill.

Sylvain was not ill, and continued his route to
the frontier ; for it was in the time of the great
and splendid wars of the emperor Napoleon.
Though he had never had the slightest taste for
the army, he mastered his own inclinations so
perfectly that he was soon distinguished as a good
soldier, brave in battle as a man who seeks for
death, and yet, while subjecting his body to the
293

FADETTE

austerities of the ancients, he was gentle and sub-
missive to discipline as a child. As his education
was sufficient to admit of promotion, he obtained
it, and, after ten years of fatigue, courage, and
noble conduct, he became captain, and was deco-
rated into the bargain.

" Ah ! If he could only come back at last!" said
Mother Barbeau to her husband the evening of the
day on which they had received a delightful letter
from him, full of love for them, Landry, Fanchon,
and all the family. "He is almost a general, and
it is quite time for him to take a rest."

" His rank is important enough, without ex-
aggerating it," said Father Barbeau, " and it is a
great honor for a peasant's family."

11 Fadette predicted it," said Mother Barbeau,
"You know she told us beforehand."

" No matter," returned Father Barbeau, "I shall
never be able to understand how his taste turned
in this direction, and how his character changed so
much, for he used to be quiet and self-indulgent."

" My dear," said the mother, " our daughter-in-
law knows more about it than she will tell ; but
nobody can deceive such a fond mother as I am,
and I think 1 know as much as our Fadette."
294

FADETTE

" I think you might tell me now," said Father
Barbeau.

" Very well," answered Mother Barbeau, " our
Fanchon is too much of an enchantress, and she be-
witched Sylvinet more than she meant. When
she found that the charm was working too power-
fully, she tried to restrain and lessen it, but she
could not ; and when our Sylvain saw that he
thought too much of his brother's wife, he went
away in all honor and virtue, sustained and ap-
proved by Fanchon."

" If that is true," said Father Barbeau, scratching
his ear, "lam afraid he will never marry, for the
nurse of Clavieres said long ago that when he once
fell in love, he would forget his infatuation about
his brother ; but that he would never love but one
woman in his life, because of his too tender and
too passionate heart."

295

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